Guess Who I Saw Today?
by AMKelley
Summary: Having lost his memory, the Courier now resides in New Vegas. He can't remember his name, all he knows is the man responsible for his near death. With just a sliver of hope, the Courier gets taken under the wing of Arcade Gannon and in turn meets an unexpected visitor at the Old Mormon Fort. (Follows the main plot of New Vegas. Pairings and warnings inside) **MAJOR SPOILERS**
1. Guess Who I Saw Today?

Major pairing:

*Male Courier/Male Lone Wanderer*

Minor pairing(s):

*Male Courier/Arcade Gannon*

*Arcade Gannon/Craig Boone*

Warning(s):

*Major Spoilers, Violence, Amnesia, Minor Character Death(s), Canon Compliant, Sexual Content, Angst, Character Study, Action, OC's*

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The Courier had taken a turn for the worse when the Platinum Chip had fallen into his hands and, to pour more salt in the wound, was shot in the head by a clown in a checkered jacket on a power trip. In turn, he had lost some of his memory. But hey, things could be worse right?

He followed Benny's trail to Vegas, but when he had fled at a most unfortunate time the Courier had found some luck. The Courier met a man named Arcade, who set him up with a job as his assistant. In turn the Courier let Arcade bunk with him at the Lucky 38. It was a fair trade and the Courier was thankful that he didn't need to do anything... Intimate. Not that the Courier would've minded having sex with Arcade. He assumed Arcade was gay. The comment Arcade made about "Some lucky guy picking up this eligible bachelor" was a dead giveaway.

Arcade was handsome, smart, straight-forward, and not a bad shot. But he lacked confidence and seem uninterested in anything unrelated to science. The Courier thought it was all a facade though.

Sure, the Courier had made advances toward Arcade, but Arcade shot him down everytime. Well... Almost everytime, that is.

You see, the Courier wasn't all bad looking either. He was still young, only twenty-something, but he wasn't exactly boy-ish. He wasn't manly either. The Courier was wimpy looking, sure, but he could pass for someone twice his age if he didn't shave for a few days. Which is why he kept a little stubble in hopes of presenting experience (which he had little of).

But when Arcade didn't turn him down, they'd fumble toward the bed kissing eachother. Stubble scraping against Arcade's face, hands ghosting over shaking bodies, and the telltale stirings in eachother's pants. Every so often Arcade would moan underneath the Courier's slick lips and buck his hips up against him. And when clothes were discarded, Arcade would suddenly stop. He'd sit there in his underwear with a confused Courier and pant out an excuse as to why he couldn't continue.

But that was just Arcade. And the Courier wouldn't press in after that.

You could say it was an official-unofficial arrangement between them. It happened more than once, but feelings were never spoken out loud. It could be easily explained away. People get urges all the time and the Courier wasn't sure if it was love or just raw basic need. The need of a body pressed up against his, but if that was the case he'd go to the Gomorrah.

It had to be something more, he thought. Trust? Him being a cheap bastard and not wanting to pay for sex? Either way it had to be more that animalistic needs. That just seemed unfair for Arcade's feelings. The Courier knew Arcade had been hurt in the past, even if the information was vague, and respected his boundaries.

But this had to stop at sometime, thought the Courier. After all, he had a life to rebuild.

A few weeks after the Courier had initially started his job, a rather curious bunch had shown up at the Old Mormon Fort in Freeside.

"Hey buddy," Arcade popped his head into the Courier's tent. "I need your help."

The Courier stood up awkwardly and followed Arcade to a larger than usual tent. He scrunched his dark eyebrows and when he entered, his eyes grew wide. A super mutant and two ghouls towered over him by at least a foot. They suprisingly looked friendly.

"C," Arcade motioned for the Courier over to one of the ghouls. "Patch these guys up with a stimpak and some bandages. I'll have Julie check in later." Arcade walked out of the tent and left him alone with these hulking creatures.

The Courier grabbed a clipboard and walked over to one of the ghouls. He eyed him up and down, not knowing where he needed to be patched up. Don't get him wrong, he accepted all creatures of the Wastes, but the ghoul's skin was making it difficult.

"Ummm, where exactly does it hurt mister..?"

"Charon," the ghoul said flatly. "My left bicep."

The Courier grasped the rigid arm and cleaned the remains of blood off. He took a stimpak and injected it directly into the wound. Charon didn't even flinch. The Courier bandaged him up and continued on with the super mutant, Fawkes. Although the super mutant was highly resilient, his leg was badly crippled. Possibly a landmine.

After he fixed up Charon and Fawkes he moved onto the other ghoul. Charon and Fawkes laid down on a couple of open cots. The Courier knelt down in front of the ghoul on the stool. This ghoul was different from the other. His skin was a little fairer, but not by much and he had more hair.

"Hope you don't mind if I ask you some questions."

It wasn't a question. The ghoul would have to answer one way or another. Not that they were being accused of anything, simply research.

"Where are you hurt?" The Courier asked professionally, as if he'd been doing this his whole life.

The ghoul unzipped his jumpsuit to expose his mutated chest. Patches of skin here and there looked smooth, hinting that he hadn't been a ghoul for very long. And the apparel he wore looked like a reinforced vault suit. The Courier was now curious about this one.

"My ribs are pretty dinged up," the ghoul said in a rather soft voice.

The Courier stuck out his hands and prodded around the affected area. The ghoul winced a few times and the Courier apologized. He could feel those foggy green eyes on him and he looked up meekly. Their eyes connected and the Courier blushed when the ghoul smiled at him.

"What's your name traveler?" He asked, trying to break the awkward atmosphere.

"I have no name, smoothskin," came the blunt reply from the ghoul.

The Courier raised an eyebrow at him. "You must go by something?" He watched the ghoul consider this and he thought he saw some amusement in those eyes.

"Friend's call me Nomad."

"Like a wanderer?" The courier inquired.

"Something like that."

And this ghoul, this 'Nomad', took joy in watching the young assistant's hands tremble over his patchy chest. They were both silent after that and the Courier took some bandage and taped up Nomad's ribs. They didn't appear to be broken, but who could be sure? Rather to be safe than sorry.

Nomad zipped up his jumpsuit when the Courier was done and used the stimpak and med-x that was given to him.

"What happened out there?" The Courier asked shakily as he watched Nomad.

The ghoul chuckled,"Well, we failed obviously."

"Failed?" He replied all too quickly.

"Curious little thing aren't you?" Nomad smirked with a sly grin. "We went to salvage some supplies over at Black Mountain. We figured there'd be a goldmine up there since the place was crawling with radiation. What we didn't know was that it was also crawling with Super Mutants and some creatures called Nightkin." Nomad seemed to be naive about Black Mountain and it's... Inhabitants.

"Yeah? Well, radiation isn't the only thing that keeps people away." The Courier paused to look up at Nomad. Nomad looked completely clueless and it dawned on the Courier. "You didn't know?"

Nomad shrugged. "I do now. I'm just glad we found this place. We haven't been here long and all these new threats are... Well, new," he chuckled. Nomad clutched at his ribs when he did so.

"I'm guessing a super sledge to the gut isn't a very good welcome party, huh?" The Courier smirked.l

"Super sledges I can handle, Super Mutants are a different story. Especially one wearing a wig and glasses," Nomad grunted.

"So you met Tabitha, huh?"

"And a ghoul named Raul. Pretty handy with a wrench, that one."

The Courier chuckled lowly and shook his head. Nomad was polite and had a sense of humor. He didn't seem ashamed to admit defeat or show pain. The Courier admired that about the ghoul. He was "real". He was human, even if he looked like a walking corpse. He was more human than anyone he's ever met.

"Where'd you come from?" The Courier asked, breaking the silence.

"Capital Wasteland." He saw the Courier raise an eyebrow. "Washington, D.C." Nomad clarified.

The Courier nodded knowingly. "I've heard some crazy stories come from there."

Nomad tilted his head and smiled. "Stories?"

The Courier locked eyes with him again and smiled nervously. Now he was being bombarded with questions and was put on the spot.

"Surely you've heard them," the Courier inquired.

"I want to hear them again," Nomad flirted.

"Well," the Courier blushed through his stubble,"the stories about the two people who crawled out of a vault and perpetually cleansed the water. Or how a handful of soldiers single-handedly defeated the Enclave. Stories like that."

"You forgot about Liberty Prime and John Henry Eden. They were very important pieces of the story," Nomad commented. "But I suppose after awhile the legends lose their key details."

"Right."

"What's your name, smoothskin?" Nomad changed the subject.

"I can't remember." He frowned.

"Playing hard to get, huh?" Nomad joked. "What should I call you then, sweetie?" A predatory smile etched across his face. It made the Courier flush.

"Um, well, I.." He trailed off, a little flustered.

Nomad stood up with some difficulty and hobbled over to the Courier. When he reached the Courier he staggered and slouched down against him. The Courier caught ahold of his arm and propped him up with what strength he had. The Courier lead him over to an open bed to lie down.

"You need to rest a little," he said with some concern in his voice and Nomad clutched at him not to leave.

Nomad was beginning to feel a little woozy from the pain, not to mention tired. He felt the Courier's presence, but the vision of him was fading slowly. He was going to pass out. "Please... Tell me your name... Angel..."

He could tell Nomad was delirious from the mix of pain, stimpak, and med-x, but didn't know what to do. He honestly couldn't remember his name. After being shot in the head, who would? And he didn't feel like lying either. So he just gnawed on his bottom lip a little and smoothed the strip of his punked hair to the right side of his head.

"Call me whatever you want," the Courier soothed as he laid Nomad onto his back.

The words that came out of Nomad were incoherent and mumbled gruffly, but the Courier's ear caught one word distinctly. It was a name.

"James," Nomad uttered. "James..."


	2. Back In The Saddle

The Courier awoke to a rustle of clothes and quiet closing of drawers, blinking past his sleep fogged eyes to see Arcade pulling on his lab coat. He turned on his side and cuddled up to the warmth that had faded some when Arcade had climbed out of bed. The Courier still didn't understand why Arcade agreed to share a bed, but didn't want to take things further. They liked the same things (kinda) and the Courier didn't think he was all that bad looking, so why didn't Arcade like him?

Arcade turned around and chucked the Courier's wasteland wanderer outfit at him, as if telling him to get ready. The Courier hated waking up. He always had a sense of disorientation and the feeling of not knowing where he was, but all that was followed by déjà vu. Reluctantly, the Courier rolled out of bed and pulled on his clothes to get ready for work. He wasn't too excited about going to the Fort, but the plus side was that he'd be able to see Nomad again.

The Courier walked up behind Arcade who stood in the mirror, fixing his coat, and wrapped his arms around the warm expanse of Arcade's chest. Arcade smirked slightly, grabbing the Courier's hands to hold them and then moving them away. The Courier was put off and wanted to press the subject of their "relationship", but decided not to.

"Come on, pal. We've got people to save and junkies to cure," Arcade brushed off smoothly, as if he hadn't told the Courier that excuse before.

Arcade left the room, leaving the Courier to stand alone in the mirror's frame. I'm not ugly am I? the Courier thought as he looked himself over with a judging eye.

He was pretty pale, after all he was a redhead, and his hair was punked. The Courier had only kept his hair like that because he was shot in the head, but even after the wound healed and left only a scar, he decided he liked it enough to keep it that way. His eyes were big blue saucers and his lips were full and pink, almost unnatural for a man. He really coul-

"I assure you, you look extremely virile. Now can we get a move on? Thanks," Arcade commented, holding the elevator door open.

The Courier blinked and stepped away from the mirror, grabbing his little medical sack and skipping to the elevator to catch up. His foot almost got caught in the jam between the door and threshold and Arcade chuckled softly at the Courier's seemingly juvenile behavior. He straightened back up, collecting himself and his things, and almost knocked Arcade over when he stumbled back against the wall.

"You're kind of cute sometimes, you know that?"

Blushing, the Courier scowled at Arcade's remark and stuck his tongue at him in mock anger. They left the Lucky 38 and walked along the streets of Freeside, keeping their hands on the trigger of their guns incase a Freeside thug planned on mugging them. Arcade commented on the hawkers losing some of their flare (especially the girl who endorsed the Atomic Wrangler). The girls are like the booze, cheap. Had she no shame?

The three little kids that chased the giant rat around, skipped by with their sticks and clubs chanting out innocent sounding pleas for it to stop so they could eat him. The Courier told Arcade to wait up so he could pick up some food that was sold near the Fort. He ordered some Squirrel Bits and Gecko steak with a side of noodles and mole rat stew. The Courier figured his patients could use some nourishment. He handed over his 37 caps and walked through the gates of the Fort.

Julie Farkas could be seen a mile away with that mohawk of hers and she trudged over to where the Courier stood with a determined furrow in her brow. She stopped to greet Arcade, handing him a clipboard and nodding toward a group of injured prospectors. The Courier grinned to himself thinking that a group of busted up old souls couldn't discourage the capable doctor in the least. Arcade was such a trooper.

After Julie excused herself, she gave the Courier a small smile (the most he's ever seen her smile) and peeked at the various foods he had purchased.

"The patients you patched up yesterday are awake. One of the ghouls requested you to meet with him as soon as you got here," she paused then added, "Nothing urgent. He just enjoys your company."

The Courier felt himself smile from ear to ear like a fool in love as Julie rolled her eyes and marched off in the opposite direction. He practically floated over to northern most tent, excited that Nomad had enjoyed being around him so much. The flaps to the tent were wide open and when the Courier entered he was greeted with appreciative grins, or what he hoped were grins.

He held up the food he was juggling and the tent practically exploded with fireworks. The ghoul, Charon, hopped to his feet and helped the Courier pass around the food. Fawkes got the gecko steak, Charon got mole rat stew, Nomad got noodles, and the Courier had the squrriel bits. They all huddled around their food and the Courier almost blushed when Nomad patted the spot next to him on the bed.

They all sat in content silence as they all ravaged their food the Courier was so nice enough to buy for them, making sounds as if they haven't eaten in years. Charon made a mewling sound that made Nomad and Fawkes chuckled with delight as if Charon had never made a sound like that before. Nomad slurped up a noodle and smiled heartily at the Courier, those green eyes resembling something of affection or perhaps gratitude. Either way, the Courier basked in it.

Fawkes burped as he ate his last bite, thanking the Courier for such a great meal and commenting on how it had just the right amount of radiation. Charon nodded his thanks as well, gathering the trash to throw it away. Nomad cleared his throat to something, gaining the Courier's attention.

"Thanks for the food, Doc. We were starving," Nomad said, slapping the Courier on the back playfully.

"I can tell. You seemed pretty famished last night. Passing out like that..." The Courier trailed off.

"I passed out?" Nomad asked, clearly baffled.

"Yeah, you asked me what my name was and you practically fainted. And mumbled someone's name."

"James," Nomad finished, his face devoid of emotion and mouth pressed in a firm line. Those green eyes somewhat sad looking, remembering something long forgotten or something not wanting to remember.

"Yeah," the Courier said lowly, "James."

The Courier cast a gaze over to Charon and Fawkes and they just looked to the ground as if in silent mourning. He was completely lost, but the Courier didn't want to stick his nose where it wasn't allowed. Nomad gave everyone a hopeful smile, shrugging off whatever made him pause with uneasiness.

"Anyway, I'm feeling much better now." And Nomad gave the Courier the most sincerest smile he could muster.

"So what's it like? In D.C., I mean," the Courier asked in a thoughtful daze.

Him and the wanderer had talked for hours until it was well in the afternoon. The Courier had been captivated by Nomad's various adventures and travels along the wastes. How he had ventured into downtown D.C. and fought super mutants to rescue the missing rangers of a fellow friend. Or how he had explored various vaults, telling the Courier all about it's strange inhabitants, some crazed and some cloned. How he had fought for the equality of ghouls and humans alike at a place called Tenpenny Tower.

But so far, the Courier's favorite story was tied between the Mechanist and the Ant Agonizer or the one about the android. He just loved hearing stories because he had none of his own to share, but he wished he did. The Courier had a feeling his story was about to begin and that one day it would be told all across the wasteland.

"Well, it's very different from here. We had Galaxy News Radio which is way better than what you people have out here, no offense. It was a dangerous place, though, and there was hardly any clean water in the beginning."

"Yeah, but you're a ghoul. Radiation doesn't affect you."

"I wasn't always a ghoul, ya know," Nomad laughed lightly. "I was human, just like you."

"You're still human. You just have a skin condition. I might actually have some lotion for that," the Courier giggled merrily, making Nomad smile so wide it showed his teeth.

"Cheeky," Nomad remarked sweetly.

The Courier was laying on his stomach, his head propped up on a hand just below his chin staring up at Nomad with a twinkle in his eye that made him look like a child. Nomad was sitting on the bed across from him with a bemused playing about his patchy gentle face.

"I mean it though. You're still human, Nomad. Despite what people see, or think," the Courier said ardently, batting his lashes over his big blue eyes only slightly.

"Thanks, Doc. You know, I still don't know you're name, smoothskin."

"I wish I knew too," the Courier said absently.

Nomad gave him a look of sorrow, wondering what the Courier could possibly mean by his statement, but not getting the chance to ask. Arcade came in through the flaps of the tent, completely disheveled and flustered. His glasses were slightly out of place and the Courier snapped his head up to were Arcade loomed over panting.

Arcade paced back and forth, shaking his head and frantically waving his hands all over the place. The Courier sat up and Nomad arched an eyebrow with an amused expression creasing his face. Arcade stopped in his tracks and cast a look over at the two who sat there quietly, watching him lose his mind for one reason or another.

"Arcade, what's wrong?" The Courier asked, tryig to keep the amusement from coloring his voice. "Too many patients?"

"The patients I can handle. It's Julie. She's breathing down my neck like a Deathclaw," Arcade shot out in a rush, unbuttoning his collar as if he couldn't breath.

"Why?"

"She's afraid I can't do it on my own."

"I could help?"

"No, no. You can have the rest of the day off. You seem to be needed here," Arcade smiled, nodding to the Wanderer politely. He ducked his head under the seam of the tent and let the Courier and Wanderer get on with eachother once more.

Nomad made a light hearted smile at Arcade's retreating form and huffed a small chuckle.

"He seems nice," Nomad commented. "Is he your boyfriend?"

"What?" The Courier asked exasperated. He had no idea where that came from and wondered how Nomad was able to pick up the attraction he had towards Arcade.

"I'm sorry. I just- The way you look at him." Nomad paused a moment, feeling like he said the wrong thing. "He's quite handsome."

"He sure is," the Courier said a little dolefully. "But no, he's not my boyfriend."

"That sucks. For him I mean. He's missing out," Nomad winked.

The Courier blushed profusely and looked away to hide his embarrassment, but Nomad reached over to set a hand on his shoulder. Their eyes locked and the redhead blushed again, wanting to stick his head in the sand. Nomad wouldn't let him have the satisfaction.

"Don't hide."

"I hate it when people see me blush."

"You shouldn't. At least your blush is noticeable and it's even adorable to boot," Nomad flattered. He came to sit next to the Courier and nudged him playfully with a shoulder, smiling wide.

For a moment the Courier saw past the undead appearance of Nomad and almost fell in love with that smile. He wasn't even all that bad looking for a ghoul, after all he still looked like a human just a little... Ghoul-y. Nomad even still had some hair and from the looks of it Nomad was a brunette. He looked a lot like Charon actually, just shorter and more baby faced... With a nose too.

Nomad's face was searching and soft, looking at the Courier with the same blank expression he saw staring back at him. He raised a hand up to the Courier's face and lightly touched his cheek, feeling the soft pale skin with his peeling hand. Nomad looked sad, his eyes dropping just a little and his lips drawing down in a straight line. The palm rested fully against the redhead's cheek now and when the Courier didn't flinch away, Nomad smiled faintly.

"What I wouldn't give to look like you," Nomad whispered, eyes shinning slightly.

The Courier's jaw clenched as the hand trailed down to his neck, gripping the side of it tenderly and the thumb tracing the tendon along it. His pulse pounded under Nomad's hand and Nomad could feel every throb as if it were his own. He thought for a second that Nomad might kiss him, but Nomad pulled away abruptly when he heard footsteps towards the tent.

Charon and Fawkes entered the tent with their stuff that had been put away when they regained their strength the previous night. Fawkes' leg seemed to be better. It still amazed the Courier how resilient super mutants were. Charon tossed a bag over to Nomad and nodded and Nomad put a hand up dismissively. The Courier feared what they might be silently saying.

Nomad looked back to the Courier and made an apologetic smile, something he should've said earlier coming to the surface. The Courier frowned because he knew what was about to happen.

"Well, smoothskin, 'bout that time."

"Yeah. I understand," the Courier said disappointed. "Don't let me keep you."

Nomad stood up, steadying a hand on his ribs and making a face as if he had been stuck by a needle. He grabbed his pack and slung it across his back, covering the stained and dirty 101 as he adjusted it.

"You'll be okay, right?"

The Courier worried. Nomad walked over and squatted down in from of the young Courier, bracing his hands on the man's knees affectionately. He smiled genuinely and gave him a wink.

"Don't worry, Kiddo. If I get hurt, I'll know where to go," Nomad rasped reassuringly.

He stood back up and went to leave, but was stopped when the Courier grasped his bicep. He turned around to the Courier's young and hopeful face, his eyes twinkling as if he was on the verge of tears. The Courier extended his hands out to him, presenting shots of Med-X and Stimpaks with some Buffout and irradiated water. Nomad took them.

"It's not much..."

"Thanks, Kiddo."

"Yes. If you seek allies in the mere future, you can rely on us," Fawkes said.

And Charon did what he always did, he grumbled but the Courier knew he was grateful all the same.

"It was interesting meeting you, Nomad. Maybe one day I'll have a story to tell you."

"Who knows? Maybe we might have a story together," Nomad winked.

Nomad embraced the Courier in a tight hug, whispering "thank you" once more and sighing heavily into the Courier's ear. The warmth of Nomad's breath made the hairs on his neck prickle and once the Courier got into the hug, the warmth was gone and so was Nomad.

The Courier sighed and looked to the ground, not knowing what the hell to do now. It's was evening now and Arcade's shift would be ending soon, wondering if Arcade wouldn't mind going to the Atomic Wrangler or maybe Gomorrah. He could use a drink. The Courier felt drained and angry and depressed, which wasn't a great combo. Angry at the man who took his memory, drained both physically and mentally, and depressed because he didn't have too many friends that stayed.

He enjoyed Nomad and his stories of the Wasteland, his charismatic and charming attitude that practically lit up the room. The Courier was definately going to miss Nomad and his friends. But the Courier smiled to himself because he knew they were naive of the Mojave and they'd be back in no time. He didn't know if that was a good or bad thing.

Arcade poked his head in again and looked around the tent as if looking for something, or someone. He saw the frown on the Courier's face and gave an apathetic look. Arcade walked in and put a hand on the small of the Courier's back.

"They're off then?" Arcade asked even though the answer was clear. The Courier only nodded, chewing on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. "He'll be back, pal. He likes you a lot."

"You really think so?" The Courier asked hesitantly, not sure if Arcade was being sarcastic or genuine.

"I'm sure of it," smiled Arcade. "Come on, drinks on me."

The Courier smiled like a silly boy with a crush and let Arcade usher him out of the tent and into the streets of Freeside. A member of the Kings ran up to them and gave the Courier a token of their gratitude and Arcade grinned, saying that he had a winning personality that anyone could fall in love with. Except for Arcade, the Courier thought pessimistically.

They reached the entrance of the Gomorrah and the much needed drinks that had their names written all over them just lay beyond the threshold.

His brain was fuzzy and the sunlight that filtered in through the window stung the Courier's eyes, the body wrapped around him warm and snoozing quietly. The Courier wondered if anything happened between him and Arcade last night, but even when Arcade was inebriated he still managed to seem sober. Buzzing whirled through the air and the Courier realized Victor was in the room, looming over him.

The Courier almost jumped out of his skin.

"Howdy, pardner! Mr. House requests yer company," Victor drawled.

The Courier grumbled a little and slipped out of bed, putting his clothes on to follow Victor to the elevator. He looked back at Arcade one last time before leaving to see Mr. House. The Courier entered the elevator alone and rode it all the way to the top until the door dinged open to let him out. He made his way down the stairs and approached the big screen that was Mr. House.

He felt small, to say the least, and vulnerable with all the Securitrons around. No one but the Courier was allowed in here and it made him a little uneasy. If he was the only one who has ever seen this place and Mr. House, wouldn't that make him disposable?

"Good morning my dear friend. I hope you slept well?"

"Not that I can remember," chuckled the Courier.

"I suppose you know why I've asked you here? The Platinum Chip?" Mr. House inquired.

"I'm not sure if I want anything to do with that anymore."

"You do not seem to understand the importance of the Chip."

"Enlighten me," the Courier challenged.

"The Chip is a data storage device. Not only does it unlock anything controlled by the Lucky 38, but it also contains a Mark II upgrade for my Securitrons that patrol the Strip. Without the Platinum Chip I have no control over New Vegas."

The Courier considered Mr. House's words, listening carefully and analyzing each of the facts. He didn't like the way Mr. House was wording his explanation, it made him sound power hungry.

"I need you to retrieve it for me," Mr. House continued. "I am prepared to reward you handsomely in anyway you see fit."

"So let me get this straight. You want me to retrieve the Chip I almost died for just so you can upgrade your little robots and have complete control over New Vegas?" The Courier asked exasperated, saying each word as clearly as possible so he could wrap his head around Mr. House's request. "I'm no politician, but that makes you sound like a dictator."

"I'd just be keeping a strict eye on things," Mr. House said. "Making sure everyone stays in line."

"You'd be ruling the streets with an iron fist," the Courier spat distastefully.

"That Chip is my property!" Mr. House advised firmly, the anger in his voice seeming to become more human by the minute.

"But Vegas isn't," countered the Courier.

"You listen to me young man! Without me or the Platinum Chip, New Vegas would be chaos and full of crime. People getting killed in the streets!"

"And robots with missiles are supposed to make it a better place?"

The Courier's blood was pounding in his ears and he saw red, not liking the sound of a dictated New Vegas one bit. But the Courier knew he'd have to play by Mr. House's rules for now if he wanted to live, so he clenched his fists and took deep breaths to calm down.

"Look," Mr. House said more calmly this time, "I understand where you're coming from and I respect it, but this is the only way to have peace and order. If you can't do it for me, do it for yourself."

"How will I benefit from this?" The Courier asked stubbornly, willing himself to slow his heart rate.

"As I said before, I can reward you handsomely. And I'm sure you wish to seek revenge on the man responsible for your amnesia."

"What are you implying?"

"Perhaps you could kill two birds with one stone? After all, Benny does deserve it. Does he not?"

Pretending to consider Mr. House's deal, the Courier looked off to the left somewhere and nodded a few times. He turned back to the big screen with Mr. House's face on it and smiled to himself, the smile turning into something sly and sinister. The Courier licked his lips.

"What say you, sir?"

"I accept. I'll get the Platinum Chip back for you."

When the Courier came back to the presidential suite, Arcade was awake and dressed, pacing the room nervously. Arcade's features lit up and he rushed over to the young man.

"Well? What happened?" Arcade asked in one gush of breath. Worry was etched over his face and the Courier made him follow him so they could talk in private.

"Mr. House asked for me," the Courier said matter-of-factly.

"Why?"

"He needs me to get something of his back."

"What?!" Arcade almost exclaimed.

The Courier took a deep breath and let it out slowly, the murmured of it shakey and uneasy. His stomach knotted in the way it always did when he was nervous, the feeling almost similar to butterflies (if they were all angry and tearing eachother apart). He opened his mouth and uttered three words...

"The Platinum Chip."


	3. How Little We Know

The Courier had seen better days and it seemed as though it would just get tougher from here on in. Yesterday could've went better and Arcade could've made an effort to repress some of his snarky comments about him being Mr. House's lap dog. But that was just the way Arcade was, a cynical with the inability to trust people. The Courier just had to get out of the Lucky 38 to catch his breath, if only for a few minutes.

He exited the Lucky 38, that drawl of Victor's reaching his ear in an almost unpleasant way. He wished he'd never been here, that he never got shot. The Courier just wanted to remember who he was, a name, a birthday, anything at all. But even that seemed to a luxury he couldn't afford in this post apocalyptic hell hole.

Feeling the warm afternoon air brushing across his face was the best thing the Courier had felt in a long time and that was saying a lot. He walked idly down the Strip, passing the Gomorrah, NCR troops, and securitrons. There were a few gamblers milling around as well as a few locals, staggering on wobbly feet and their breath reeking of cheap watered down booze.

The Courier noticed a peculiar looking securitron just outside The Tops casino, a huge cheerful face on it's screen that seemed a little too friendly for comfort. But regardless of his uneasiness, the Courier's curiosity got the better of him and he found himself going over to the robot.

"Hi! Hello there! Good to meet you!" The securitron said cheerfully, his screen glitching out a few times.

"Who are you?" The Courier questioned curiously.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am a PDQ-88b securitron, but you can call me Yes Man," the robot rattled off happily. "As I understand it, I used to be just like those other securitrons on the Strip, but my neurocomputational matrix was reprogrammed to be nice! Very, very nice!"

The Courier backed up a little, the overbearing enthusiasm of Yes Man just starting to get a little creepy. But even he had to admit, Yes Man's cheerful demeanor was far better than the coldly programmed securitrons that were armed to the teeth (if they had teeth, that is). Not only that, but word around town was that Benny had a robot that was going to help him take control of New Vegas.

"I was programmed to be helpful and answer any questions I was asked," Yes Man continued. "I guess no body bothered to restrict who I answered questions for. That was probably pretty dumb, huh?"

"Any question?" The Courier asked slyly, a plan beginning to boil in his mind.

"Yes siree, Bob!" Yes Man confirmed chipperly. "I'd have to help you! But it seems pretty obvious Benny wouldn't have want me to, but it's not my fault I can't say no!"

"Why does Benny need you? Why did he reprogram your system?"

"He programmed me to monitor Mr. House's data network and decode encrypted transmissions!"

"What does Benny plan to do with the Platinum Chip?"

"He plans to murder Mr. House to control his securitrons and take over the Strip. Isn't that just the silliest thing you've heard! Ha ha," Yes Man said.

"So I was shot in the head because he's a greedy clown?" The Courier asked dryly, completely humorless.

"Ha ha! That's not funny. You being shot in the head! I really shouldn't have taken so much pride in how I set that up, huh?"

"Set up? What are you talking about?" The Courier questioned. His pulse pounded in his ears and he felt as if he was burning up with confused anger.

"Oh, silly me! I forgot! Benny had me tracking your every move!" Yes Man chuckled, his joyful tone completely inappropriate at a time like this. "But I can't help it! I feel really bad now."

The Courier wanted nothing more than to destroy this robot who was partially responsible for the way he was, but as Yes Man had said before, he's programmed to obey any command. There was something about Yes Man that sparked a little bit of the Courier's interest though, he could find out where Benny was and learn more about his plans. Perhaps Yes Man could be of use to him.

"Hey Yes Man? Where do you think Benny might be?" The Courier quizzed thoughtfully.

"Weeeelllll, by my calculations he was due southeast to a place called The Fort! Doesn't that just remind you of your childhood friends? Building clubhouses and fighting off the local mole rats with sticks!"

"Actually, no, Yes Man. That doesn't remind me of my childhood at all. Then again, I can't remember my childhood," the Courier chuckled hesitantly. "Thanks for the tip, Yes Man."

"You're welcome! Try not to die out there!"

The Courier raced back to the Lucky 38 as fast as he could, running past Victor before he could greet the Courier and riding the elevator all the way to the presidential suite. He scattered around the rooms, finding Arcade rummaging through the fridge for something to eat. He walked over to Arcade, looking very rattled and in a "spur of the moment" sort of mood.

Arcade straightened up and furrowed his eyebrows closely together, not exactly knowing if the Courier was alright or not and not sure if he wanted to. He hadn't been very thrilled when the Courier told him about the Platinum Chip and how Mr. House expected him to retrieve it. It wasn't that he feared the chance of his friend dying, it had more to do with the politics of the whole situation.

The doctor wasn't one to get tangled up in affairs that didn't concern him and his political view point wouldn't be appreciated by the many troops surrounding the general region. He perfered to keep his mouth shut and do what he did best. Heal the ones who needed fixing.

He looked at the Courier and saw determination, the kind of determination that said he wouldn't stop at anything to get what he wanted. Arcade had feared that look.

"You're serious about this aren't you?" Arcade asked flatly.

I'm not doing this for Mr. House, Arcade. Benny took my life, my memories, and my name. I have nothing because of him," the Courier reminded.

"So you're doing it for revenge?"

The Courier looked away, just a little ashamed of how vile Arcade made the word sound and figured the tone did it some justice after all. The redhead pleaded with his pale eyes, begging for Arcade to help him because he knew he couldn't do this on his own.

"Please, Arcade. I know you're against most of my decisions, but I need you," the Courier pleaded, giving the word 'need' an inflection to show how important it was. "I can't do this on my own." The Courier looked quite pitiful begging, but it was all he had.

Arcade seemed to consider his words, making an uneasy face at the thought of going against his basic principles of keeping the peace and looking for a less violent solution. But with a face like the Courier's he couldn't resist saying no to the young man.

"I'm sure you're quite determined, but it'll take more than a couple of unarmed and unskilled boys," Arcade retorted snidely. "Well need weapons of course. Powerful ones."

"We'll go to the Silver Rush. I'm sure Gloria would give us a deal," the Courier said with an excited smile on his face.

"Not to mention more man-power. No pun intended, so don't get any ideas," Arcade said firmly.

"No problem!" The Courier said simply, his smile getting wider by the minute.

"You know what this means right?" Arcade asked grimly.

"Yes."

"We're a part of this war now," Arcade confirmed, sounding less than excited. It went against all his beliefs and peace keeping nature.

"I know," the Courier whispered, head lowered and looking away from Arcade regretfully. He knew better than to get Arcade mixed up in things like this, but he needed the doctor. "But we deserve to have our say too, Arcade."

"Plasma Caster? Very subtle," Arcade remarked sarcastically.

"Hey. I also have a Plasma Defender. You know, for close range stuff," the Courier said.

"Well with your luck our enemies'll probably be a goo pile before we reach them."

"Thanks, Gloria!" The Courier waved goodbye and Gloria did the same, him and Arcade exited the Silver Rush and Simon returned their things before they left down the street.

"I'm still surprised you got us a deal on those weapons. Why is that?" Arcade asked curiously.

"I did some stuff for her," the Courier replied.

"Stuff?" Arcade asked with an inflection.

"Not like that," the Courier berated with a chuckle.

They walked past The King's school of impersonation, a local thug trying to mug a member and failing as he was shot down. The Courier at the crack of gunfire echoing through the empty streets and knowing it was a sight and sound he'd have to get used to. Arcade made a comment about what a lovely last memory of Freeside that'd be before they set out.

Passing the Old Mormon Fort, they took one last look at it as Arcade sighed audibly. It was the first time in a long time he'd ever left this town and if he felt a twinge of sadness or nervousness, it'd be forgivable. The Courier rested an arm around his shoulder, pulling him into a half embrace and squeezed his arm gently. He wished with all his heart that he could tell Arcade that everything was going to be fine, but he couldn't.

The Courier grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the giant gate that led to the outside world of the Mojave Wasteland. They stood before it, turning around to look at their home one last time. The only home the Courier could remember, the only place he felt safe and now he was leaving.

It was sort of silly to make yourself think the atmosphere was different out here than it was in Freeside, but it was. A wind brushed across their faces and the gate behind them closed, the smell of death and dirt and bad intentions staining the warm air of this waste. It wasn't particularly new to the Courier, but he never did get used to it. He couldn't imagine what this must be like for Arcade right now, having lived almost his whole life in that place.

But this was it. There was no turning back and if Arcade had changed his mind the Courier would still go, with or without the doctor. The Courier was dead set on exacting his revenge, it's what fueled him, it made him a force to be reckoned with and even in dire times he'd never give up.

They got as far as REPCONN Headquarters before night fall, taking highway 95 was a good idea on the Courier's part. It may take a little bit longer but it certainly was a lot safer, seeming to only run into some ants and a few geckos. Nothing the two of them couldn't handle.

The two of them decided to split up and search the area for supplies, Arcade looked outside as the Courier budged the door to the building open. He stumbled inside slightly, collecting himself to stand up straight and come face to face with a protectron. It droned on about giving a tour of REPCONN but the Courier snuck away, finding a door that was locked and picked it with a bobby pin.

The room had a desk or two, filling cabinets turned over and papers scattered everywhere as far as the eye could see. There wasn't anything of great value in the room besides some pre-war money and a few caps here and there. The Courier spotted another door and opened it, noticing an unlocked safe and some ammunition boxes.

He raided the boxes for what they were worth, getting a good amount of microfusion cells as well as energy cells. To his luck the safe had been untouched and he grabbed everything, some more ammo but mostly medical supplies they'd definately need.

The Courier could here the beeping of robots outside the door and he decided it'd be a good idea to leave before they turned on him. He put everything he managed to scrounge up into his pack and hurried to the main door, not looking back. He made sure the door was firmly secured in place and scanned the parking lot to find Arcade.

He was over by a few shacks, turning over debris and bending down to pick up anything he found useful, but it was a little tough since the sun had started to set. The Courier caught up with him and suggested they set up camp for tonight. They built a fire and indulged in some Fancy Lads Snack Cakes and stories. It seemed Arcade knew a good deal about plasma weapons and REPCONN, but he never told the Courier how he knew all those things.

He'd simply say: It's a thing. A science thing.

And deeper into the night when the fire died down a little, Arcade rolled out a sleeping bag and motioned for the Courier to lay with him. After all it did get quite cold at night. Arcade wrapped an arm around the Courier and clung to his body, warming them both up and keeping eachother safe.

Arcade's hand rubbed idle circles on the Courier's stomach and chest then running along his arm, the Courier's back flush against his chest. The Courier always loved contact from Arcade, whether it was snuggling or nervous fumbles, and he relaxed his muscles as he fell asleep into a dreamless trance. The lull of the wind settling around them in the dead of night.

It took another day and a half until the Courier and Arcade finally reached Novac, their legs tired and stomachs making inhuman noises. They entered one of the shacks along the road, surprised to see an old man in rags sitting in the corner. The place was a mess, bottles strung up everywhere and a shotgun laid on a chair, seeming to be rigged by a tripwire but the hull was empty.

"Halt there! Or I'll have my boys shoot you down!" The old man barked. "Me and Ol' Sticky here don't take kindly to strangers."

Arcade and the Courier looked at eachother then over to the mannequins propped up like guards with combat helmets. It seemed as though the man thought he had a knife in his hand, but nothing was there. The Courier gave him an amused "is this guy for real" expression and Arcade shrugged uncertainly.

"At ease, gentlemen," the Courier mused, playing along with the old man's fantasy. "We come in peace."

"Are you a communist?" The old man quizzed.

"I'm more of a listener actually," the Courier chuckled, walking up to the man cautiously. "I'm a Courier for Mojave Express and this is my friend, Arcade."

"Pleased to meet ya son. They call me No-Bark."

"No-Bark? That's an interesting nickname. How'd you come across that?" The Courier asked.

"So they know I ain't just barking here. What I say's got bite, 'cause its the truth!"

"And what's the truth?"

"It's ghouls, I tell ya. Religious ghouls in rockets looking for a land to call their own. Don't you laugh at me! I know a spell that will make you show your true form. Cave rat taught it to me."

"Cave rat, huh?" Arcade mumbled.

"Have you ever thought about seeing a doctor?" The Courier asked a little cautiously.

"Them quack doctors can say what they want about all the radscorpion stings that done pierced my skull. I know what I seen!" No-Bark defended, or rather, exclaimed loud enough for the heavens to hear it. "Commie ghosts! They gonna use the rockets to fly up to paint the moon pink and draw a Lenin face on it!"

"Anyway..." Arcade said, trailing off with impatience and trying to prompt the Courier to stop chewing the fat with the town's conspiracy theorist.

"No-Bark, do you happen to know where we could find a person looking for some work as a hired gun?" The Courier asked politely.

"Sure I do! I know everyone in this town. Ask around for a man named Boone."

"Thank you," the Courier said gratefully.

Him and Arcade shuffled out the door, hearing the old man say something about watching out for the Chupacabra. Arcade shook his head, wanting to laugh at No-Barks insane claims and tall tales about rockets and commie ghouls. The Courier found it quite amusing.

They asked a few people about Boone and all fingers pointed to the tall dinosaur statue. They climbed the stairs to the head and creaked open the door to the mouth, tapping a man on the shoulder and earning a glare as he turned around. The man wore a merc grunt outfit, a red beret, and sunglasses with a hunting rifle slung across his shoulder.

"Don't sneak up on me like that," the man said lowly, his voice containing something that sounded like anguish or contempt.

"I'm sorry. I'm looking for a man named Boone," the Courier squeaked, eyes like saucers and feeling threatened just by this man's presence.

"You found him," he said. "First name's Craig."

After awhile they found themselves in a hotel room discussing their situation to Boone, telling him why they had searched for him and how they were prepared to pay him for his services. But Boone declined any form of payment and simply agreed to traveled along with them, retelling of his days with the NCR. He needed to be back out in the wastes and he thanked them for their offer.

Boone was certainly a haunted man. Having lost his wife and unborn child to the Legion left him bitter and suicidal. He had no shame in telling them about the various times he attempted to commit suicide or how he'd go recklessly into a skirmish without the caution of making sure he survived. In many ways he was a bitter man with a death wish, not caring if he died and in a sense he was as human as anyone else.

He was hardened by his training with the NCR First Recon and his own personal loss. He was someone the Courier could relate with, to souls seeking vengeance for all the bad things done to them in the past. But if anyone liked Boone the most, it was Arcade.

Despite his disposition with the NCR he was captivated by Boone's stories and grief, eyes running over the expanse of his chest and his strong hands. To Arcade, Boone was someone you'd bring home to mom. The Courier didn't need eyes to see how Arcade molested Boone with sight alone, he could practically feel the sexual tension radiating off of him.

"Well. I think it's time I got some rest," the Courier announced with a fake yawn, standing up and stretching his limbs tiredly.

He looked over at Arcade and shook his head ruefully, a smile playing about his lips and left the men alone in the hotel room. The Courier went to the room next door and shut off all the lights, laying down against the soft surface of the bed. Not exactly tired, but just wanting to rest his limbs for a little while and think about tomorrow.

And sometime later he heard a thumping noise coming from behind the wall. If the Courier listened closely enough, he could hear moaning.


	4. We Must Stop Meeting Like This

The Courier woke with a start, his chest heaving from labored breaths of a half remembered nightmare. There was a thin layer of sweat coating his body that made his clothes stick to his skin, bunching up at the small of his back and clinging to his pectorals. He looked around the derelict hotel room as if to reassure himself that this was reality and that he had been dreaming.

There was a loud pounding on the door that made him jump and have a small heart attack. It sounded like a gunshot and his head throbbed in the spot he got shot, reminding him of all the anger he held towards the man responsible. He should be used to it by now, waking up like this, but he can't. He can't make the throbbing go away. He can't remember the things he wants to and he can't forget the ones he doesn't. The Courier should be used to this.

He got out of the bed and walked to the door, opening it to be greeted by, a little perky, Arcade. The Courier couldn't help but smirk at the memory of last night when he heard Arcade and Boone having sex, after meeting first the first time only two hours prior. Arcade was turning into something else.

First of all, Arcade was opposed to lovers, some past experience had left him a little bitter and second of all, him and the NCR stood apart. Boone was NCR incarnate and the complete opposite of Arcade in every way, which is why it made no sense at all to him. But Boone was something that the Courier wasn't (and probably would never be): A man.

"So, how was your night?" The Courier asked coldly, his pride being knocked down a peg as it occurred to him that Arcade would sleep with a total stranger with opposing values, before he'd sleep with him.

Arcade blushed subtly. "It was amazing," the doctor answered truthfully.

"Hope you had a blast," the Courier remarked half-heartedly."

"Are you okay?" Arcade furrowed his eyebrows and put his hands on his hips, blush and smile slowly fading. "You sound bitter."

"I'm fine," he lied. "I just worry about you. I don't want him hurting you."

"Thanks." Arcade smiled again, brighter this time and seemed to buy the lie the Courier had rattled off almost sarcastic enough to not be believable. "But I can handle it."

"I'm sure you can," the Courier mocked loathingly.

"Are you ready to head out?"

"What? Are you calling the shots now?" The Courier chuckled fondly.

"No. Craig said we should get an early start today. We should be at Ranger Station Echo by nightfall."

"Craig?"

"Sorry. Boone," Arcade corrected.

All of a sudden he was calling him by the first name? What the hell was that about? Did he miss a meeting or something? The Courier's face was hot and there was a sour taste in his mouth, jealousy threatening to bubble up and stain his words vilely.

"That's funny... I thought I was the one on a mission with the Platinum Chip. Huh... Crazy."

The Courier didn't ease up on the sarcasm one bit and he made it clear that he was irritated and threatened by the fact that Boone was trying to take over his mission as if it were his own. He knew it was an irrational excuse to be angry, but the Courier had his reasons.

"That was sarcasm right?" Arcade asked. "Unless I missed something?"

"Can't get anything past you," the Courier scoffed.

"This is the part where you make it easy for me and tell me wants eating you." Arcade stepped into the room and closed the door behind, crossing his arms across his chest. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. You made it abundantly clear that the fate of New Vegas rests solely in Boone's hands," the Courier said flatly, looking away from Arcade's questioning gaze.

"Do you prefer having that responsibility?" Arcade challenged, making the Courier's posture slump slightly in defeat. "Besides," Arcade said more softly this time, "He just wants to help. The faster we get the Chip the sooner we go home."

The Courier looked down at his feet, not truly meaning to get mad at Arcade but at the same time not regretting it. He met Arcade soft expression and gave him a small embarrassed smile, his cheeks turning pink now that Arcade knew he was jealous.

"Sorry," the Courier murmured with a shrug of his shoulder. "Let me just get my stuff together."

Arcade nodded and left the room, leaving the Courier to collect himself and his things in silence. He sighed and packed his bag, putting on his jacket and leaving the room to meet up with Arcade and Boone near the dinosaur.

He could see the merchants idly walking the streets and NCR troops patrolling the area, No-Bark Noonan ranting and raving in the background of it all. The Courier smirked to himself, a shiver running down his spine at the thought of getting closer and closer to saving New Vegas and, even more so, closer to his rightful revenge.

The Courier was greeted by a slap on the back from Arcade and a stone-faced stare from the 1st recon beret wearing sharpshooter. He wasn't intimidated by the cold stare one bit and as he nodded once back to Boone they set off, Novac and the dinosaur getting further and further away.

It was somewhere near the Wrecked Highwayman when they ran into a little trouble, a few Cazadors and an exceptionally tough group of feral ghouls. Boone flanked them from a distance as him and Arcade fought them head on, firing their Plasma Defenders at all their weak points to slow them down before they got too close for comfort.

A feral ghoul came out of nowhere from Arcade's right and scratched his forearm, causing the doctor to hiss in pain and drop his gun. The Courier whipped around and fired a single shot to the feral ghoul's head, incapacitating the wild flailing corpse. Arcade fell to the ground, clutching at his arm and groaning when he hit the unforgiving ground.

The Courier rushed over to Arcade's side and propped his head up comfortably, being careful when he helped him roll up his sleeve to inspect the wound. It wasn't deep and surprisingly not bleeding that much, but it would still need some medical attention. The Courier retrieved some Med-X and bandages to care for the wound, making Arcade hold down one end to make sure it was wrapped up securely.

Boone scavenged the ghoul's bodies for anything useful and trotted up to Arcade to see if he was alright. The Courier rolled his eyes as Arcade forgot all about him and how he had just saved him, turning away to wait for Boone to stop kissing Arcade's ass.

A loud thump caught their attention and Boone drew his rifle, pointing it in the general direction it came from. They all approached a giant rock as a ghoul came tumbling out from behind and falling in the dirt, coughing uncontrollably. Boone was about to fire but the Courier grabbed the barrel and swatted it away.

"What the hell?" Boone asked irritated.

"Just wait," snapped the Courier.

The ghoul looked up at them and gave the Courier a slight smirk, winking slyly at him and at that moment they knew he was normal. The Courier walked over and gave the ghoul his hand to help him up, cheeks hurting from smiling like a damn fool. The ghoul was back on his feet, clinging to the Courier in a warm embrace.

"We must stop meeting like this, kiddo," Nomad chuckled out of breath. He wheezed and clutched at his ribs, slumping against the redhead for support.

"Here, let me help you," the Courier murmured as he walked Nomad across the 164 to find a place to sit down. "What happened to you?"

"Ran into some trouble at the REPCONN Test Site. Place is crawling with Ferals," Nomad rasped.

The Courier went through his bag and gave Nomad some dirty water, because judging by his strained speech and wheezing pants he could tell the Wanderer was dehydrated. Nomad finished it off in four big gulps and winced when he breathed in sharply, causing his ribs to expand with his diaphragm and act up.

"Where's Fawkes and Charon?" The Courier asked, a little concerned.

"We got separated at Clarkfield. Believe it or not, the Golden Geckos were a little too much to handle."

"Well, I'm sure you guys were weak," the Courier reassured "After dealing with a bunch of Feral ghouls."

The Courier blushed as he mused Nomad with excuses as to why the geckos were too tough to fight off. Nomad smirked at the Courier playfully, letting the words become more true than they already were. The Courier zipped down the tab on Nomad's jumpsuit to reveal that splotchy skin, resting a warm hand against his ribcage and applying pressure to see what hurt the Wanderer the most.

"Does this hurt?" The Courier inquired as he pressed his palm into the top rib.

"No."

"And this?"

His hand went down a little, fingers almost tickling as they drifted across the expanse of Nomad's abdomen. He applied pressure with his thumb, gauging Nomad's reaction as he did so and seeing only the slightest of winces. Nomad made a little sound and informed him it hurt, but it was bearable.

The hand went to the bottom rib, the Courier's palm rotating downward to press the heel into it firmly and now was he'd get the result he wanted. Nomad moaned a little and closed his eyes, the Courier smiling all the while but not knowing why. He didn't know why he wanted to hear Nomad in pain, but as Nomad opened up his eyes again they locked gazes.

There was something in this action and stare that translated a forbidden attraction between the two men. It reflected off of the Courier's smile and mirrored in Nomad's foggy eyes, sending impulses through where their bodies were connected. The Courier couldn't explain this and neither could Nomad. They didn't even know what THIS was but it was something and it would define their relationship.

"Yeah," Nomad confirmed, "It hurts."

"We should set up camp," the Courier suggested, not looking away from Nomad for one second. This in turn made Arcade pout and Boone scoff audibly .

"You wanna stop? It's nearly sundown and we-"

"We won't be able to make it tonight anyway," said the Courier, not hesitating to interrupt Boone mid-sentence.

"He's right," Arcade agreed, holding his arm close to his chest.

Boone grumbled and walked off to patrol the area as the others set up camp and made a fire to keep them warm for the impending coldness that followed with the night. The world around them grew silent as the night set in, the subtle murmur of wind wisping around them and sending chills down their necks.

Nomad was huddled close to the Courier to keep warmth and Arcade was across from them by himself, yawning. The Courier's stomach growled and he wished they had more food so they could eat every night, but they had to conserve their rations for when they really needed them.

The Courier could see that Arcade was mulling something over in his head but he couldn't tell what exactly, not until he made a look a Nomad. It was as if he was sizing him up or something and the Courier didn't know why it made him uneasy, but it did.

"So, Nomad. What's your story anyway?" Arcade said aloud.

"Story?" Nomad asked obliviously.

"Yeah. Like where did you come from?"

"Well, I came from Washington, DC. I was born in a town called Megaton and lived with my father. He ran a store called Craterside Supply and I helped scavenge for supplies whenever we were low. We didn't have much, but we were happy."

Arcade didn't seem to buy it and being a good judge of character (and sometimes a pain in the ass) he dared to challenge those claims. He hummed a small laugh and didn't break eye contact with Nomad for one second, determined to call him on a lie.

"No, really. Where'd you come from? You obviously came from a vault. Your lack of knowledge of the wastes and... Reckless behavior, have proved you to be somewhat naive," Arcade stated as he recalled all he had observed of the ghoul, certain he had caught his bluff.

Nomad smiled evenly, being sure to keep a cool head and not let Arcade's assumptions get to him so easily. He had two options: relent and tell the truth about his past, or lie like he always did to people he's met while traveling. Nomad couldn't tell you why he preferred to lie about his past, but he knew now wasn't the time he'd start telling the truth.

The truth of how he and his father crawled out of a vault, or how his father had died for believing in a future, or even the fact that Nomad had made a sacrifice of his own. If he had to guess as to why he kept the truth to himself, it be because no one would believe him.

They wouldn't believe that his father, James, had saved the Wasteland and purified the water for the greater good of humanity. Even Nomad couldn't believe it. Those stories about the Vault Dwellers were merely legends to people like Arcade and the Courier and if they were told otherwise they'd scoff, shrugging it off as nonsense.

"Well, I haven't been in the Mojave for long and it certainly is a lot different out here," Nomad said evenly. "My dad gave this suit to me. He knew a man who had lived in a Vault for almost 50 years. Had a whole bunch of these things lying around. All sizes too."

Arcade was still a little iffy, but the way Nomad had spoke so clearly without hesitation seemed to cloud his former judgment and rethink his assumptions. The Courier just shook his head as if this was Arcade's way of getting back at him for being jealous of Boone, but amused by their back and forth all the same.

"Were you always a ghoul?" Arcade rattled off, seeming to have bought Nomad's previous fib.

"No. You see, the funny thing about Megaton is that it was built around an active Atom Bomb. Some people even worshipped it like a God," said Nomad.

He felt like he was telling a ghost story by the campfire with Arcade playing as his captivated audience. He caught the Courier's smile with the corner of his eye, looking as if he was enjoying Nomad's story even more than the others and it made him all fuzzy inside that he was able to entertain the young man. Even if it was only half true.

"It was highly unstable and there were certain people who thought of Megaton as a blight of the wastes." Nomad paused and looked up to the sky as if for dramatic effect, but it wasn't.

"What happened?" The Courier pipped up after a moment of silence, excitement and longing coating his words. Eager to hear the climax.

"Sometimes the wrong people have more power than others and decide to rid the world of the things they hate or defy them. I don't remember much before the blast but when I came to, Megaton didn't exist anymore and neither did it's inhabitants. Except for me and one other. Her name was Moira Brown and after the discovery of our "ghoulification" we left and traveled to a place where ghouls were welcomed: Underworld."

"That's terrible," Arcade commented with true concern in his voice and possibly feeling a little bad for asking.

"Burke was the man who rigged it and Allistair Tenpenny was the man with way too much power, sitting on throne he took over for himself," Nomad said bitterly.

"How do you know that?" The Courier asked.

"Because I killed them," Nomad said matter-of-factly, looking the Courier in the eyes with nothing but seriousness.

Sometime later Boone had returned to the campfire and sat next to Arcade's limp and sleeping form, keeping his eyes peeled for any enemies. It was quiet for most of the night and when the Courier couldn't sleep he decided to explore the area around them. He stood up and brought his Plasma defender with him incase something decided to attack him, tiptoeing away from the fire without a word from Boone.

He walked down a dirt path, kicking rocks and looking at all there was to see. Dirt, rocks, and more dirt. But at least the night was cool and somewhat refreshing if you could forget about all the gamma radiation floating around. The Courier found a rock and sat down, breathing in deep and exhaling slowly as he reveled in the peace and quiet of a world that was no longer either of those things.

The Courier looked up at the stars (or lack thereof) and wondered if someone else was doing the same, counting each one to forget about all the fucked up things in the world. He was sure someone was doing it. But very few had the power to actually make a difference and in this way, the Courier was alone with the stars.

He closed his eyes to stop his existence for just a split second before jumping nearly out of his skin when a hand gently gripped his shoulder, squeezing once to calm him. Nomad sat down next to him quietly, lowering the gun the Courier was quick to pull. The Courier blushed and Nomad smiled, finding it cute everytime he did so. The Courier could've sworn Nomad was asleep when he had snuck off, but it turned out he was wrong. As if Nomad was waiting for him to do just that, so they could be alone together.

"Beautiful night isn't it?" Nomad commented softly.

"It's practically glowing," the Courier giggled, not able to resist the set up for a corny joke and in turn making Nomad laugh as well. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Your father."

"What about my father?" Nomad inquired, intrigued by what the Courier would say.

"I'm sorry that you lost him," the Courier said forlornly. "No one deserves to have their father taken away like that. Especially someone like you."

"No one deserves to have their memory taken away either," Nomad added, getting a confused look from the Courier.

"How did you-?"

"Word gets around," Nomad informed, holding up a radio he had brought with him.

"That guy never shuts up."

"You must not know Three Dog then," Nomad chuckled.

The Courier assumed that Three Dog was also a radio broadcaster, probably from DC, and laughed too even though he didn't know enough about the guy to make comparisons. Nomad moved closer to the Courier and put a hand on his thigh, bending in half with laughter at the memory of one broadcast in particular.

"It must've been nice having a father," the Courier said absentmindedly, not really noticing he said it out loud until Nomad responded.

"It was. He was a great man. Didn't deserve the hand he was dealt. Kinda like you," Nomad said earnestly.

"I don't think I have a father, or a mother. If I did they'd be looking for me, wondering what the hell happened. If I was okay or not." The Courier didn't even try to restrain his frustration or anger or regret as he spoke, not caring if Nomad saw him weak and vulnerable. "Maybe they're up in the stars."

"I'm afraid the only thing up in the stars are a bunch of crazy ghouls, kiddo."

"What?" The Courier asked, a tiny barely there smile creeping back onto his face.

"At the REPCONN Test Site there were a bunch of ghouls preparing to launch themselves in a rocket to find paradise or some sort of afterlife," Nomad smirked. "The were called the Bright Followers, or something."

The Courier smiled and laughed heartily, shaking his head in fond disbelief.

"That crazy old bastard, No-Bark, was right."

"Who?"

"It's a long story."

"Good. We have time for it then," Nomad grinned, features and eyes soft with affection. "Or we could could just..."

Nomad froze up as if captivated by the Courier's pale youthful face, his lips unmoving and eyes twinkling from the moonlight. Suddenly, Nomad was moving forward, resting his forehead against the Courier's and cupping his face with only slightly rough hands. The Courier didn't shy away or object the closeness of Nomad, but enjoyed the contact as if he couldn't get enough of it.

"...sit here," Nomad finished, closing the small gap between them and brushing his lips against the Courier's lightly enough to make it tickle.

The Courier's eyes went wide like saucers and a part of his brain slowed down while the other part screamed it's true thoughts of the act. He didn't feel disgusted or violated, but surprised and excited because he had never (from what he could remember) kissed a ghoul before. It was definately different from kissing a human and it should've been disgusting, but the Courier liked it. He liked Nomad.

The Courier gasped when he felt one of Nomad's rough hands slip under his shirt to rub warm trails up and down his chest, giving Nomad's tongue entry to his mouth in the process. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to get lost in the moment, accepting Nomad's rough but gentle motions as he became a little hot and bothered.

He moaned and shuddered when Nomad's thumb brushed a nipple, feeling the smile of triumph spread across the ghoul's face as his tongue was being worked by another. It had never felt like this when he was with Arcade, in fact it felt even better. Nomad had Arcade beat by a mile, and then some.

Nomad circled his tongue around the Courier's, always keeping the same slow gentle rhythm and made this kiss actually mean something other than urgency and animalistic want. This was meaningful and passionate, like an unspoken declaration of love or a promise.

The Wanderer pulled back for air, still so close and still wanting more. He didn't want to stop kissing the Courier, but he needed to gain his trust first and the Courier could see that. Nomad smiled at the flushed and panting redhead before, patting him on the thigh in reassurance.

"Don't worry, kiddo. I got your back."

And the Courier knew that Nomad also had his heart.


	5. We Will All Go Together

The Courier woke up to a sharp nudge to the ribs and when his eyes snapped open it was Boone looming over with his booted foot connecting with his stomach. He made a sound when Boone's foot knocked the wind out of him and he sat up with a cough, recovering from the blow. And Boone stood there with his stone face, any affection in his eyes was covered by his tinted sunglasses.

"What the hell man-?" The Courier said groggily.

"It's time," was all Boone said.

Boone walked off and the Courier sat fully upright to see Boone lightly shaking Arcade awake. What the fuck was that shit about? Why was I kicked awake? The Courier thought. It didn't seem exactly fair and the Courier was muttering mocking obscenities underneath his breath as he jerked around in his bedroll to pack it up.

"What a jerk," Nomad said, an arm above his head and one eye peering over at the Courier. "He shouldn't be treating you like that. Do you want me to say something to him?"

"No, it's fine."

"It's not, and you know it."

"It doesn't matter," the Courier brushed off, not looking Nomad in the eyes as he said it.

Nomad sat up and put a hand on the Courier's wrist to stop him from packing his things, making the Courier give his undivided attention to him. Something in Nomad's eyes softened a little and it reminded the Courier of the kiss from last night. How it made him feel loved and special and Nomad's hand gripped his wrist a little tighter.

"You matter, Kiddo. Don't let anybody tell you different."

Nomad smiled warmly and it was as though there was something they should do after Nomad had said such kind words, but nothing happened. The Courier licked his lips in anticipation and when he sat there for what seemed like hours, Arcade walked up with an amused look on his face. Arcade crossed his arms across his chest and shook his head fondly.

"This is the part where you kiss," Arcade informed, earning him an echoing sigh and a pair of rolling eyes.

Feeling that the moment was thoroughly ruined, the Courier got up and put his pack over his shoulder and waited for everyone to be ready. Despite Boone wanting to get a move on, he was hardly packed up and it made the Courier's blood boil just a little at the thought. The Courier gave Boone an "Any day now" look and it made the ex NCR trooper grumble, but the Courier wasn't afraid of him.

Even if Boone could sneak up on him at any moment and kill him, or put one between his eyes. The Courier wasn't scared of that. He'd already been shot in the head once and all Boone would be doing is completing what Benny couldn't. The Courier has nothing left to lose. If he were to die here and now no one would know or care at all. Arcade might shed a tear or two (maybe) but Nomad might care a little, after all he did have some sort of feelings for the Courier.

So if he did die, he'd know that SOMEONE would actually give a damn. It made the Courier a little more optimistic about his current situation and if Nomad was the only reason worth fighting for, that'd be more than enough to continue. And there was also the revenge thing and the whole "saving New Vegas" too. Revenge seemed too shallow and saving New Vegas was a big responsibility for a nobody like the Courier.

But when the Courier was shot in the head it seemed destiny had took over the steering wheel of his life and turned it in a whole other direction. And now this was his life. This was his job. And it was just oddly convenient that he'd come face to face with his attempted murderer and to found out who he truly was. Destiny was throwing so many obstacles in his way and teasing the Courier with answers for all his questions. He needed the Platinum Chip and fast.

When the others were ready they set off in silence and no one made a comment towards Nomad standing very close to the Courier. Arcade would admit that they were an odd couple but cute nonetheless and if the Courier liked ghouls, so be it. If the Courier was happy that's all that should matter.

It was midday when they stopped for a food and water break, Nomad took a seat next to the Courier and eyed at the Pip Boy 3000 clasped around his left wrist. Nomad didn't have his anymore. He didn't want to remember that life. The only thing to show for his existence in a vault was his vault 101 suit and the story behind that could be explained away easily like last night.

Nomad believed his lies so much that he'd sometimes forget what really happened, but the Pip Boy seemed to bring back all the memories. His 10th birthday, when he received his Pip Boy and when his father, James, gave him his first BB gun to shoot radroaches. Would Amata be proud of him? Would his father? His mother? Why was he so inclined to lie about his past? It's not like he did anything bad, he saved people all over the wastes. Was that something to be ashamed of?

He felt like a total coward.

"Are you alright?" The Courier ask concerned, eyes searching Nomad's solemn face.

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine," Nomad lied.

Nomad took a bite of some left over Brahmin steak he'd saved, but it was stale and too tough to chew and when he swallowed it down he could hardly stomach the taste. The Courier handed him some potato Crisps and some dirty water, giving a small smile when their hands touched in the exchange. The Courier giggled when the Brahmin meat was tossed away and when Nomad scarfed down the junk food.

"I always make sure to pack sealed foods. I only eat meat when it's fresh," the Courier stated.

"I'll keep that in mind for the future," Nomad said through crunches and smacks.

"How much further do we have to go?" Arcade complained, rubbing at his sore feet.

"Well," the Courier started as he took a long look at his Pip Boy, "We passed that Prospector Camp about an hour ago and there's a Ranger Station near Cottonwood Cove I figured if we-"

"Listen, kid. We're going all the way tonight. No more stopping and no more excuses. You need to live up to your responsibilities," Boone said coldly, standing defiantly over the Courier. "You need to be a man and do your job."

Nomad made a move to get up but the Courier put his hand on his arm to keep him from giving Boone a piece of his mind. This was the Courier's problem and he'd sort it out like the adult he was. Who the hell was Boone to call him a kid anyway?

"No, you listen you son of a bitch," the Courier threatened lowly, his voice taking on a slighter husky tone. "I'm through being barked at by some washed up, balding NCR fascist. I met you not even five days ago, so who the fuck are you to call me a child and be a man?"

The Courier was in Boone's face with his brows creased in anger and frustration and if the Courier didn't have good restraint he would've punched Boone then and there, but he didn't. Boone stood there as if he was frozen in place, his eyes on fire at the Courier's rebuttal.

"You know nothing about me or my responsibilities. Don't make this situation about YOU and getting YOUR revenge, Boone."

"I wasn't," Boone said.

"Bullshit," the Courier spat.

The Courier's face was now near Boone's left ear and his breath was hot against the other man's skin. Boone didn't flinch or move away from the intrusion of his personal space, he was too curious to see what the Courier would do or say to him. They were so close that neither Arcade nor Nomad could hear what was said to Boone, but Boone heard it clear as day.

"You have no idea how it feels to wake up and not know who you are," the Courier whispered, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "To not have a life or family. To have absolutely no one looking for you or concerned about your well-being. To not have a name. You think your problems are bad, try living in my shoes for once. At least you had HAD someone that loved and knew you. I have nothing."

When the Courier pulled away he knew the tears streaming down his face couldn't be hidden so he just let them all see. His mind was laid out on the table for all to see and he couldn't give two shits what anybody said now. The Courier felt bolder and stronger and the look on Boone's face was simply beautiful to him. He'd remember that look forever.

Boone was stricken between shock and fury, the moment too surreal that it left him paralyzed with a blank expression on his face as if he was speechless. The Courier had made him speechless. There was no warning or intimidating treat, just the silence of a beaten man with misty eyes and a swelling heart that could burst at any moment. The Courier was right. Boone felt like an asshole.

The Courier looked around at Arcade and Nomad who stared at him with wide eyes and pounding pulses, truly surprised at the Courier's display of defiance and bravery. He wiped at his wet ruddy cheeks with the back of his sleeve and sniffled his nose to collect some composure to collect himself. They all waited patiently for what the Courier had to say, knowing that he wasn't through yet.

"What I say goes and if anyone says otherwise, they can leave right now," the Courier said evenly, meaning every word with a strong tone and when no one pipped up to argue he took that as a sign that everyone was staying. "Right. Since we're on the same page I'll continue what I was saying before I was rudely interrupted."

He shot a glare over at Boone and Boone nodded to him, giving him the go ahead as if the Courier needed his permission.

"Like I was saying, there's a place near Cottonwood Cove called Ranger Station Echo. I figured we could stay there for a night or two to rest and scavenge for food since we're almost out. Besides, it'll be nice to sleep without the fear of getting killed during the night."

"Sounds like a plan," Nomad commented.

"Well then I guess we're all going," Arcade said when Boone didn't argue. "Let's get a move on then. I can feel myself being eaten alive by bugs out here."

When they got to Ranger Station Echo it was nearly nightfall and the Courier was thoroughly exhausted, his feet throbbing sorely in his shoes as they padded up to the makeshift door. Rangers drew their attention towards them and pointed their rifles, ready to fire if they were unwelcomed. A Ranger with a mustache walked up and looked them over suspiciously, relaxing when he noticed the beret on Boone's head.

"I am Ranger Erasmus. What business do you have here?" The man questioned.

"Hello, sir. This is Arcade, Boone, and Nomad," the Courier greeted, pointing to each man as he said their names. "We have traveled many miles and we hope it wouldn't be too much trouble to stay here a night or two."

"As long as you don't cause any trouble, it's fine. Who might you be?"

"I'm the Courier."

All the rangers lowered their weapons and Ranger Erasmus stared at him in awe as if he was seeing a ghost. The Courier couldn't get used to something like this, he wasn't a myth or a legend he was a human being like anyone else. Why was he so special all of a sudden? He only cheated death.

"So that old coot wasn't just tooting his own horn after all," Erasmus thought out loud.

"I'm sorry?" The Courier asked.

"You don't listen to the radio much, do ya? That Mr. New Vegas has a lot to say about you, kid. You're welcomed to stay here anytime you like. You're friends too," Erasmus said warmly. "Feel free to stay in that tent over there. We'll talk some more in the morning when you've had some rest, you look completely worn."

"Thank you, sir. We really appreciate the hospitality.," the Courier said genuinely.

"Don't mention it. Get some rest."

They all made their way to the tent and set up their bedrolls, thankful that there were a couple mattresses already laid down in there for whoever needed them. Arcade and Boone took one mattress and the Courier shared the other with Nomad, showing no objection towards it whatsoever. They'd be warmer this way but keeping warm wasn't reallyhigh on the list, the Courier just liked being near Nomad.

After they settled in it wasn't much later when they heard Arcade and Boone snoring lightly across the gap separating them. The Courier was pressed up against Nomad's chest, hugging himself to the warm body that was so eager to return just as much affection as his. Nomad shifted and wrapped an arm around the Courier's waist as if to keep him safe from all harm around them.

This right here was near perfection and the Courier wouldn't want to be anywhere else. He was in Nomad's strong arms and nothing could hurt him even if a Deathclaw was tearing him limb from limb. The Courier leaned forward and nuzzled against Nomad's chest like a kitten, rubbing his cheek up and down as if marking his territory. Nomad hummed a laugh of amusement and kissed the Courier on the top of his head, punked hair neatly rested to one side.

"You were so brave today," Nomad murmured against his cheek.

"I think I was a little mean," the Courier replied, feeling somewhat bad for stooping down to Boone's level.

"He needed it. Consider it as a wake up call," Nomad brushed off. "Besides, you sound sexy when your angry."

"Shhh!"

"What?"

"I don't want them to hear you!" The Courier whispered, his face heating up,with impending embarrassment.

"They're asleep. Nothing to worry about, kiddo. We could probably get away with a little hanky panky while they sleep actually," Nomad suggested with an obscene wink and lick of lips.

"In front of them? Are you insane?!" The Courier practically shouted to the world.

"I was just kidding!" Nomad said, gluing his hand firmly to the Courier's big mouth. "We'd need to be alone with no one around if we were to do that, kiddo."

Nomad removed his hand from the Courier's mouth and the Courier's curiosity got the better of him, even though he was totally taking the bait Nomad had set out specifically for him. He was like a moth drawn to a flame and he couldn't possibly let it go without asking that one damned word that had so many answers.

"Why?" The Courier asked meekly.

Nomad had a smirk plastered across his face and the Courier knew he was doomed right then and there. He had given Nomad exactly what he wanted and now it was too late to turn around and take it back. Nomad leaned in close to where his lips hovered over the Courier's, his hot breath ghosting over lightly chapped lips and making them damp.

"Because I'd make you scream," Nomad whispered hotly, each word spoken as a promise or guarantee. Like he was just so sure of it. "Not in a bad or painful way. I'd make you shake and moan with every thrust."

The Courier felt one of Nomad's hands go down to squeeze him through his pants, the Courier's erection throbbing tightly against the material of his pants and Nomad's hand. He panted like he was out of breath and Nomad grinned a self-satisfied smile to himself. He was like a spider with it's food, teasing and playing with him before he actually decided to indulge into a little taste.

"And I'd kiss you softly, licking all along your neck and then biting you hard enough to leave a bruising mark. Claiming you as my property," Nomad purred thickly. "Toying with that sensitive pale skin of yours. Twisting and pinching those pink little nipples until you beg for me to fuck you."

"Unghh. Please, stop," the Courier panted, his cock getting uncomfortably hard in his pants. "You're gonna make me come in my pants."

"Are you sure you want me to stop?" Nomad asked hesitantly, nipping at one of the Courier's earlobes

"Just for now. I still want you to do all those things to me one day though," the Courier laughed weakly as Nomad stopped touching him.

"I'm holding you to that," Nomad warned but he knew the Courier was more than willing to oblige in the future, so it wasn't as much as a warning. More like a joke.

The Courier smiled warmly and kissed Nomad on the lips, murmuring goodnight as he drifted off to sleep. This night the Courier would dream of a place where Benny or the sounds of gunshots could reach, a place only he knew about. And in this place he'd find Nomad humming along to the songs on the radio and everything would be green and perfect. There'd be no more nightmares and darkness would be banished from every corner of the Earth, along with all the monsters who opposed them.

In this place he was safe in Nomad's arms, their past, present, and future not mattering. As long as they had eachother, they'd be fine.


	6. Beware The Wrath Of Caesar!

Ranger Erasmus had told the Courier all about Cottonwood Cove and it's inhabitants. It was full of over zealous legionaries with no fear of death and mercy to speak of and it just so happened that it was Ranger Erasmus' job to keep them under control. The Legion wasn't welcome for many reasons. One being that they got a kick out of killing and enslaving the innocent of the wastes and an other reason was because they had a deep seeded vendetta against the NCR.

The legionaries had a plan to take control of the Mojave and it was exactly what Yes Man, Mr. House, and the NCR were trying to avoid. The superpowers may have had different intentions for New Vegas but three of them could agree that the Legion was a blight of the wastes and needed to be eradicated forthwith.

The Courier had heard stories about a man named Caesar, the leader of the Legion, and how he was feared among the wastes. He was ruthless and cunning with countless numbers of legionaries at his disposal. Some would say he didn't have a soul, others would call him a phantom not to be reckoned with, but everyone could agree that Caesar was a nightmare come true.

His morals were loose in the eyes of normal wasters but to Caesar it was the way things should be, slaves and all. The whole Roman propaganda was the way to go and it really couldn't be beat if you were a legionnaire. And those who opposed the Legion were one of two things: a corpse or a slave.

The Courier had no intention of becoming either today.

It was clear that the NCR and Legion stood apart and with that being said, Boone wouldn't be able to tag along this time. Besides, the Legion was responsible for the death of his wife and unborn child, so even if Boone were in a disguise it wouldn't be able to hide or even suppress his loathing and lust for revenge. It was an unnecessary risk the Courier didn't want to take.

Arcade didn't even want to be around the Legion so it only left the Courier with Nomad as his back up incase something were to happen. The Courier wasn't complaining one bit. He trusted the wanderer with his life and there was no one he'd rather take anyway.

They had all called the Courier foolish for going by himself with only Nomad to protect him and vice versa, but unlike Arcade and the NCR the Courier had no beef with the Legion. As of right now the Courier was neutral with the Romanesque faction and he intended to keep it that way for as long as necessary. Or at least until he got the Platinum Chip.

Ranger Erasmus said that it wouldn't take long for them to get to Cottonwood Cove since Ranger Station Echo overlooked it from a cliff, but the Courier wanted to leave quickly anyway. He wasn't too jazzed about the Legion but he just wanted to get the Platinum Chip and be done with it all. The Courier wanted to go back to his life... His new life.

Him and Nomad came down from the cliff rather quickly and came to a road that lead the way to Cottonwood Cove. It was quiet for the most part because people, including fiends, knew better than to tread on soil marked by the Legion. Only people with a death wish ever came here.

The road came to an end to a dirt one and along the sides it was decorated with cross with live human beings place upon them like christ. It took the Courier's breath away but not in the sense of fluffy speechlessness, more in the sense of shock and appallment. Nomad's gasp didn't go unnoticed either, he was just as shocked as the Courier was if not more.

The Courier kept his head down. He couldn't bear to look at those poor NCR Troopers or Great Khans or wasters in agony. There was nothing he could do to save them without risking his own life, besides they were nearly dead. It was selfish but the world wasn't exactly a nice place. Mercy was a luxury and luxuries couldn't coexist with the way things were.

They approached a row of houses and when they were spotted they were told halt as a legionnaire came trotting up. He wore the uniform of a centurion and a big feathered helmet rested atop his head. It was clear that he was the one in charge of Cottonwood Cove and the Courier, along with Nomad, stood up straight and didn't speak unless spoken to.

"Ave," spoke the man. "I am Aurelius of Phoenix, Centurion of Cottonwood Cove. What business does a waster and a ghoul have here? Speak with a quick tongue for I might lose my patience."

"Aurelius of Phoenix, we come to speak with your leader Caesar," said the Courier.

"And who requests his attention?" Aurelius inquired.

"Courier Six," was all he said and Aurelius' face dropped it's stern expression to be replaced by a smirk of wonder. "He has something of my employer's and he wants it back."

"Do you dare call Caesar a thief?" Aurelius challenged.

"No, but he may know where the thief is," the Courier said calmly.

Aurelius seemed to consider these words and so far they weren't dead so it was safe to say that they were at least in this man's good graces. But that didn't matter unless Caesar accepted them as well. Aurelius smirked again looking from the Courier to Nomad and nodded once.

"If that is the case, number Six, then I shall let you pass. But know this," Aurelius warned, "if you step out of line, you will be begging for a quick death. The Legion watches all."

"Understood," the Courier nodded.

"Go see Cursor Lucullus. Vale," Aurelius dismissed.

The Courier and Nomad were let by without another word but that didn't stop a chill from rolling down his spine. As they walked further into Cottonwood Cove they could feel all eyes on them, watching them intently to make sure they weren't doing anything against there rules. The Courier felt like he was being sized up by a few of them but Nomad clutched his arm when he unconsciously grasped the handle of his Plasma Defender.

The redhead snapped his head over at Nomad to see startled eyes warning him not to do anything irrational. He looked down to see where he was ready to draw his gun and jerked his hand away as if he had no recollection of doing it in the first place. And he really couldn't recall doing it. Force of habit.

Some of the Legionaries caught unto it and started to trail behind them at a reasonable distance, anticipating any attack that might come. But the Courier knew better now. The Legion didn't play around when it came to defending their own and neither the Courier or Nomad were doubting that one bit.

They reached the dock to see a man standing by a sturdy looking raft. He looked young, fresh out of training but significantly taller than most of the legionnaires. Black hair, groomed well enough. He didn't look like he belonged in a place like this, he couldn't have been a day over twenty.

"Ave. Are you ready to travel to the Fort?" Lucullus asked.

"Yes," said the Courier.

Cursor Lucullus let them by and climbed into the boat after them, disentangling the knot tied to the dock and grabbing the oars. The boat drifted and wobbled for a moment and when it finally settled, Lucullus started to paddle away from the shallow waters. None of them even spoke to one another. There was nothing to say.

They floated down the Colorado River in silence and the Courier took a good look around at how much beauty was still left in this world. He couldn't remember seeing anything so beautiful. The Courier leaned over to one side to catch his reflection in the water and beside him another face appeared, rippling in the small undertow created by the boat. The Courier could feel Nomad behind him.

The reflection of Nomad's face distorted and and then it was gone entirely, disappearing behind the Courier's head. He felt the remembrance of lips pressed at the back of his neck and his breath caught in his throat, shivering at Nomad's deceiving softness. The Courier was glad the ferryman was faced away from them at this intimate moment.

Something was mouthed against the Courier's earlobe and a whisper was muttered sweetly behind it, eliciting a smile from the redhead. Nomad's warmth against his back retreated slowly and the Courier sighed contently, the sound of water rustling beneath the wood of the boat. The boat creaked and Lucullus turned halfway around to peek an eye at the two, who were now separated, and shrugged to himself.

When they got the The Fort all their weapons were taken away, except for the Courier's Love and Hate spiked knuckles. It wasn't much but the Courier wasn't about to just walk in here without a weapon. It was a long trek to the top of the mountain and the Courier wasn't exactly excited to ho unarmed with a whole bunch of legionaries surrounding them.

There were little kids running around and a few legionaries hollering at them to quit fooling around, it made the Courier's stomach turn. There were only men legionnaires. The women, and some men, were slaves. Women were used to breed more self righteous soldiers and continue this twisted belief of their's. Just like ancient Rome all over again.

When they got to the gate at the top and stepped through there were various tents pitched up and men sharpening their machetes just outside an arena. The Courier and Nomad were given a few dirty looks here and there but that soon stopped when they reached the top, standing before the tent flap that lead to the mighty Caesar's thrown.

"I'm sorry but only one can go in," said the Legion guard standing outside the tent, "Your friend will have to wait outside."

The Courier looked back at Nomad and gave him a worried look but Nomad smiled shrugged it off, saying that he'd be fine while he was gone. It was hard to trust that when the Courier knew how reckless Nomad could be but he nodded and proceeded in, alone, to Caesar's quarters.

It was bigger inside than it looked outside and the Courier took a good look around. There were half a dozen guards along with a few dogs and they were all armed with Machetes and Power Fists, ready to take any intruder down. He walked in further to see the thrown and the person who sat in it.

He was fairly old, perhaps in his sixties, but it didn't fool the Courier one bit. It was Caesar of the Legion and despite his level of maturity, he looked threatening as ever. The Courier didn't know what it was. It was as if Caesar's terrifying presence was enough to make anyone's skin crawl with uneasiness.

The Courier approached the thrown slowly as if his feet didn't want to comply with him. There was no turning back from this even if he wanted to. Caesar had something he needed and as far as the Courier knew, Benny was either dead or long gone, but he knew the Platinum Chip was in Caesar's possession. A man of Caesar's status wouldn't let the smallest things go unchecked, because men like Caesar cunning and thorough.

"So, you're the Courier I've heard so much about. The one that looked in the face of death and said 'No'," the old man inquired with curiosity. "The one who refused to die. So many questions with such a miniscule amount of time. I am the one they call Caesar. Kneel before the leader of the Legion."

Whether the Courier was struck with awe or fear didn't matter, he took a knee and kneeled before Caesar with his head bowed in respect despite his unwillingness to surrender to someone he thought was poison of the Earth. As long as the Courier rendered to Caesar he'd be alright. After the Platinum Chip was in his possession, all bets would be off and it wouldn't matter what the Courier did.

"I know why you've come here, number Six. To take back the very thing that almost cost your life. The Platinum Chip."

"How did you-"

"I have eyes everywhere. I see all," said Caesar. "You may stand, Courier."

The redhead got up on both of his feet and stood before Caesar obediently and at attention out of respect. Caesar smirked delightfully at the Courier and shifted in his seat to lean against one of the arms for support.

"I understand that this Chip means a great deal to you and I'll be willing to give it to you."

"What's the catch?" The Courier asked, knowing that there was always a catch to things like this.

Caesar chuckled, "You're not as dumb as people lead me on to think."

If this was anywhere where else or anyone else, the Courier would've killed that man then and there but this was Caesar with a whole Legion at his aid. The Courier bit his tongue and swallowed the snotty remark for future reference, keeping quiet until Caesar was finished talking.

"I'd be willing to give this Platinum Chip to you and more, for a small favor," Caesar began, pausing at the right moments for dramatic effect and spiking the Courier's curiosity.

"I'm listening," was all the Courier said.

"I felt the ground shake a moment ago. I'm guessing you were successful in completing your mission?" Caesar asked enthusiastically.

"Yes," replied the Courier.

Caesar smiled fondly and beckoned the Courier over to his thrown, chuckling in delight. The Courier walked over and the man standing next to Caesar sneered in contempt in his general. The Courier brushed it off without so much as a glance of acknowledgment.

"As promised, you may keep the Platinum Chip and as a bonus I'm allowing you to exact your vengeance."

And after that was said two praetorian guards came out with a man in a checkered blazer and looking absolutely pitiful as he was thrown on the ground at the Courier's feet. It was Benny. The man who failed in killing the Courier but was successful in taking away everything else he had and now here he was. On the ground coughing from all the dirt he was inhaling, watery eyed and runny nose making the dirt on his face get clumpy and dark.

The only thing that would make this moment even better was if the Legion gave Benny a few bruises, maybe even a scar or two, but the Courier wasn't complaining. Benny was now HIS and right now, the Courier wasn't feeling merciful in the least. Benny didn't show him any so the Courier wouldn't either.

"You get to decide how he dies," Caesar informed. "You may kill him here and now, battle in the arena or... uumm.. errhh... unghh..."

The Courier, including all the legionnaires, paused a moment to look at Caesar who was making grunts and groans as he rubbed at his head and eyes. It sounded as if Caesar was about to throw up but this was something entirely different, something the Courier couldn't quite put his finger on despite his medical knowledge.

"Errhh... Hmm? What was I saying? Right!" Caesar collected himself as if he hadn't just blanked out and continued speaking. "Or crucifixion."

Kneeling down in front of Benny's pathetic form, the Courier jerked Benny's head up with his hand so that he could look him directly in the eyes. Benny's eyes went wide as if he was scared or shocked and he began babbling unintelligible words and trying to crawl away. The Courier smirked down at Benny and let out a huff.

"What's the matter, Benny?" The Courier queried. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"No! Impossible... You're dead! I killed you!" Benny spat with shaky breaths.

"Tell me Benny, how do you want to die? What seems fair to you?"

"Please! Let me go! I'll give you anything you want baby! You're a cool cat right? Let me go. I'll take good care of you, daddy-o!" Benny begged pathetically, gushing out word after word as he squirmed helplessly in the dirt that was too good for him.

"Anything I want?" The Courier asked on the verge of tears as Benny nodded hastily in response. The Courier grabbed Benny the front of his jacket and yanked him in close so that they were face to face. "I want my life back you son of a bitch."

He jerked Benny away from himself and spat on Benny in disgust, kicking more dirt into his face as he stood up straight to give Caesar his answer. The Courier looked at Benny one last time and decided what Benny deserved for taking away everything he ever had.

"Crucify the bastard. It's really the best thing for him."

Caesar nodded once and the praetorian guards hauled Benny off as he cursed and called the Courier a vindictive fuck, kicking and screaming until he couldn't be heard anymore. The Courier turned his back on Caesar after thanking him and exited the tent to rejoin Nomad once again.

Nomad gave the Courier a look who dismissed it with a shake of his head as if silently saying "it's a long story" or "ask me later". Nomad nodded in acknowledgment and the two of them left the Fort together and took the ferry all the way back to Cottonwood Cove. It was too dark and the Courier was too exhausted.

They only made it back halfway to Ranger Station Echo when the Courier and Nomad decided to call it a night and set up camp. There were so many things on Nomad's mind right now that he didn't know where to begin. He sat across from the Courier and stared into the fire they had built and cooked beans on.

The Courier was quiet for the most part, in a trance consumed by the stars and cool night air that surrounded him. He caught Nomad staring at him a few times and squirmed as if he was being put on the spot and hoped Nomad would stop soon. He was uncomfortable enough as it was already and he didn't need Nomad's foggy green eyes judging him in silence.

"What?" The Courier finally asked.

"What happened? How were you able to get the Platinum Chip?" Nomad asked curiously.

"Caesar just wanted me to do something is all," the Courier tried brushing off.

"Do what?" Nomad pushed, eyes focused on the Courier's.

The Courier looked away, unable to meet Nomad's eyes and stared into the stars once again. His hand unconsciously went inside his pocket and fingered at the Platinum Chip, the pad of his thumb running over the metal where it was raised. The Courier exhaled a small sigh of uneasiness and looked back at Nomad.

"Caesar told me about a bunker underneath the mountain. He told me how there were these steel doors that couldn't be pried open or blown up and that they bared the sigil of the Lucky 38. And it just so happens that there was a slot for the Platinum Chip..."

The Courier paused a moment and it made Nomad antsy.

"Tell me," Nomad pressured lightly.

"He wanted me to go down there and destroy whatever I found," the Courier replied lowly.

"And? What did you do?"

"I did what I had to."

It was vague and cryptic at best but Nomad decided not to hassle the Courier even more. He couldn't imagine what the Courier was going through and he didn't want to. Nomad left the conversation at that and let the Courier decide whether they kept talking about whatever or if they should just go to bed. Surprisingly the Courier continued to talk.

"I saw him. Benny. The man responsible for taking my life away," said the Courier with a far off look on his face as if the memory itself was actually happening again right before his eyes.

"I'm guessing he got what was coming to him," Nomad said. "Did you kill him?"

"No, but he'll die eventually," the Courier said with a smirk. "I had him crucified. He'll be up there for a few days until he finally dies. My only regret is that he won't suffer longer. I'll just feel worse in the future anyway."

"I didn't."

"What?"

"I didn't feel bad when I got my revenge," Nomad clarified. "And you shouldn't either. Both of our lives were taken from us. We shouldn't feel the need to show pity or regret. They wouldn't do the same for us."

The Courier's conscience was a little iffy at the statement but it was true. They wouldn't.


	7. Return To Sender

The next day when the Courier and Nomad had gotten back to Ranger Station Echo, Boone and Arcade were asking them all about what happened but of course the Courier wouldn't divulge on any details. He told them about Caesar and what he did Benny by way of revenge neither Boone nor Arcade had the slightest judgment in their eyes. Well, maybe Arcade did a little bit.

Nomad had watched the Courier talk about it and there was something he obviously wasn't telling them. What had happened in that underground bunker was a mystery only the Courier knew the answer to and it began to eat away at Nomad's sanity. The Courier hadn't even told Arcade about it as far as Nomad knew which meant that it had to be something big. What was down in that bunker that the Courier had to keep to himself?

The Courier was visibly on edge and they all could see it in the way he spoke and gestured as he read the meeting with Caesar like a script. They way he explained the crucified people and how the women were treated poorly, he seemed... traumatized. There was a haunted look in his eyes and Nomad knew that the Courier had seen hell. He had seen hell in the eyes of all the innocents left to die under the sun. He had seen hell in the eyes of Benny. He had seen the devil in Caesar.

Nomad knew that look all too well and even though Arcade didn't seem like the type to notice it, he knew that Boone could smell the fear coming from the kid. Boone and Nomad were soldiers and now the Courier was becoming one as well, taking Arcade with him. By the time all this bullshit was over they'd all have the thousand yard stare and a good dose of PTSD.

Je should've heard it coming a mile away but Nomad was surprised to hear the Courier suggest that they split up. After it was said a wave of flabbergasted stares had suddenly become customary for the conversation at hand. Arcade looked the most hurt and even Boone had to admit he was unsure about that decision, but Nomad knew the Courier wouldn't leave him.

"Are you serious?" Arcade asked disbelieving, brows furrowing under the rim of his glasses. Nomad could've sworn he saw tears welling up in his eyes but it could just be glare. "Why do you want us to split up?"

"There's going to be a war soon and if we don't prepare for it-"

"But you have the Platinum Chip now," Arcade cut off hastily, getting worried even more by the Courier's use of the word war. "We have no business in the NCR's or the Legion's affairs anymore."

"You said it yourself, Arcade. Back in New Vegas, right before we set out for this quest. We're apart of this war. It is our business now," said the Courier, grasping Arcade by the shoulders and holding him close enough to make eye contact. "We all are," he confirmed, looking around at Boone and Nomad. "Everyone. We all knew it from the start."

"But we didn't have to be," Arcade whispered, sad and frustrated all in a single bound. He had to fight back the tears.

"We had no choice," Boone agreed, looking at the Courier then to Arcade.

"We always had a choice!" Arcade yelled helplessly, backing away from all the others.

Arcade was frightened and he didn't want to believe any of the men cornering him into the side of the cliff as they continued to try and convince him otherwise. Both Boone and the Courier were working him over with words he didn't want to hear, words that shouldn't be true but were. His back hit the jagged wall of rock behind him and he closed his eyes as his last defense.

"No," Nomad said matter-of-factly, "We didn't. We had no more say than the NCR and Legion combined. We have no more say than the Brotherhood, or the Followers, or a new born baby. We're all apart of this world and it makes us all responsible for what will and has happened to it. No excuses."

The doctor still wanted to refuse but he knew he couldn't keep up the facade anymore than he could stop the sun from shining or the the sky from being blue. It was pointless to resist something he knew deep down inside was true and he hated it. It wasn't fair. Arcade wasn't a coward, he just didn't particularly enjoy watching loved ones die.

Okay," Arcade conceded, opening his tear filled eyes to gaze around at the three men. "Alright. If that's what you guys want to hear... Okay."

"Yeah, that's what I want to hear, Arcade," the Courier scoffed sarcastically. He walked up to his friend and wrapped his arms around him affectionately, knowing both he and Arcade needed the reassurance and comfort. "I never wanted this to happen either," the Courier whispered softly into Arcade's hair. "I promise nothing will happen."

The Courier disentangled himself from Arcade and Arcade sniffled, nodding in understanding as he tried to give the Courier a hopeful smile. The redhead's hand smoothed down the side of Arcade's wet face and he smiled as his heart broke just slightly. The Courier retracted his hand and looked over at Boone and Nomad.

"Boone, I want you and Arcade to round up as many people as you can who are willing to fight."

"Why not just join forces with the NCR?" Boone asked curiously.

"Because we're not on their side," said the Courier. "We won't hurt them but we'll be indirectly helping them. We're fighting for the people of New Vegas and that's what we'll remain to be. No sides. Just us."

"What are you going to do?" Boone asked.

"I need to see Mr. House about some loose ends," the Courier said cryptically. "I'll be taking Nomad with me." The Courier walked over to his pack and hoisted it up on his narrow shoulders, adjusting it to his size. "We all meet at Ranger Station Delta in one week."

"Is that going to be enough time?" Boone rasped questioningly.

"Let's hope so."

It was two days later when the Courier and Nomad found themselves at the gates of New Vegas. Both men were surprised that they made it back so fast, but then again they were on a mission to save the Mojave. They had only been gone for nearly a week and a half but it felt like longer, it felt foreign and distant but so familiar. It felt like home.

The Courier and Nomad were exhausted and their feet throbbed from a walk they thought would never end. They staggered into the gates of New Vegas and suddenly the once scary and dangerous streets felt warm and safe. The Courier took a deep breath, exhaling slowly to savor the irradiated air of the place he called home.

Nomad smiled at the Courier, finding his behavior to be odd but cute because he understood what he was doing. He can't remember the last time he's felt that. Nomad doesn't think he's ever felt that since he's been on the road, traveling from waste to waste in hopes of finding something, anything, to call his own. He believes that he's found that with the Courier.

Even though he knows nothing about the kid, especially his name, Nomad knows that one day he'll be able to share new memories with the Courier. Nomad would help the Courier re-learn himself all over again and maybe one day he'd have a name all for himself. After all, Nomad couldn't call him kiddo forever. The Courier didn't seem to be much younger than him anyway.

They soon reached the Lucky 38 and soon they'd be face to face with the dictator more commonly known as, Mr. House. For the longest time the Courier just stood outside the building, looking at it as if he was contemplating whether or not to go through with ever he was going to do.

The Courier looked at Nomad, his pale young face unreadable, shadowed slightly by the swoop of his punked red hair. He looked like a soldier about to go into battle and it dawned on Nomad that, that's what he was preparing for. The Courier was gathering his wits because he was going to go in there guns blazing.

Nomad nodded, telling the Courier with just his eyes that he knew the plan and that he had his back. The Courier strode forward briskly, walking past Victor and ignoring him completely as he opened the big doors to the Lucky 38. There was no turning back now, he was already making a B-line towards the elevator and hitting the button to go up to the penthouse where Mr. House was.

You could say that the ghoul was a little unnerved but if the Courier was about to go into that room all by himself guarded by securitrons with nothing but a Plasma Defender, he'd be damned if he let the Courier go it alone. But despite his jitters, Nomad was ready. He had his own customized Paladin Toaster equipped and a Riot Shotgun on standby if things got hairy fast.

But Nomad knew he'd be attacked the moment he stepped foot in that room because only the Courier was allowed in the penthouse, so when the elevator reached it's floor he stepped out quietly and hid until he was needed. The Courier gave Nomad one last fleeting glance and proceeded down the stairs to speak with Mr. House. The Courier's hand went idly to the Platinum Chip in his pocket and he ran a thumb across it as Mr. House's screen flickered.

Nomad circled around so that he was underneath the staircase, watching, waiting patiently for the barrage of bullets to tear through the air with the intent to kill the target. He poked his head out around the side and noticed the picture upon the big screen and Nomad couldn't help but feel a little speechless at the sight.

Déjà-fucking-vu.

Were all dictators computers these days?

"I take it that Benny's been dealt with? Did your revenge feel good?" Mr. House asked, waiting for a response. A reaction. But the Courier said nothing to him. "I believe you have something for me? The Platinum Chip?" Mr. House inquired.

"Yes," the Courier replied with no emotion whatsoever, "I have."

"Well come on, let's see it!" Mr. House gushed hastily, having waited too long for this moment. The moment when he'd finally have his beloved Chip back to do with as he pleased.

"I'm afraid I can't let you have it, Mr. House," said the Courier dryly, defiance in his tone like before, when Mr. House had requested his help to retrieve it.

"Hmm... How shall I put this?" Mr. House droned in his old world tone. "Delivery of the Platinum Chip is non-negotiable."

The Courier huffed out a laugh. "I'm not negotiating. I'm telling."

"I implore you to reconsider and think carefully about what you do next. You, standing here before me alone. With my heavily armed securitron guards..." Mr. House warned.

"Attack me and you'll risk destroying the Platinum Chip," the Courier spoke swiftly, hoping to get a rise out of the entrepreneur.

"Do you really think I'd let some little upstart come into my home and ransom my property to me?!" Mr. House exclaimed sternly, letting the Courier's words get to him. "I've spent two centuries searching for the Platinum Chip. It's my invention, my property! Mine! Now be a good courier and deliver it!"

That was the last nail in the coffin and the Courier knew it. Nomad knew it. Mr. House had went off the deep end and there was no doubt in the Courier's mind that Mr. House would let the Chip back by any means necessary. Mr. House's screen flickered again and the Courier couldn't help but give the computer a smirk. He had defeated Mr. House at his own game and the real challenge would soon follow.

"No," defied the Courier smugly. "New Vegas isn't your's anymore and neither is the Platinum Chip. If you want it, you'll have to kill me first. Just know that I'm not afraid of you."

"What a pity.. But you needn't be afraid of me, Courier, because it's my securitrons that are going to kill you!" Mr. House barked out as his final command.

The connection on the big screen was lost and as soon as this registered the securitrons turned red, beginning to search for hostiles to eliminate. Nomad came out ready to take down securitrons but he noticed a terminal on the wall. Him and the Courier ran towards it with hopeful brisk steps, opening it up to see if anything could be done. It gave them the option to open up the hidden door and as soon as it opened they rushed inside to get as far away as they could from the hostile securitrons.

They could here the wheels and robotic pre-programmed voices of the securitrons and it made adrenaline pump through their veins, scrabbling for anything they could use to their advantage. Nomad ran over to the next terminal and he realized what it was for. The Courier braced himself against a pillar beside Nomad and glanced over at the ghoul skeptically.

"What is it?" The Courier rushed out in one breath, nerves on fire. A securitron rolled into the room and began firing at them, bullet casings hitting the ground with heavy clinks.

"It's a terminal to reboot the securitrons," Nomad yelled back over the sound of ammunition pumping out, cringing away from the gunfire. "It's locked up pretty good though."

"Can you hack it?" The Courier asked, pulling out his Plasma Defender.

"I can try," Nomad said weakly, looking terrified and thinking that this could be the end for them both. It wasn't a very good answer but it was the best Nomad could manage in this particular situation. "Try and keep them off of our backs."

The Courier nodded once and took a deep breath knowing that it could be his last and he spun around with his gun at the ready, pointing it at the securitron that had found them. He stared down the sights and pulled the trigger back, biting his lip hard as he unloaded round after round at his enemy.

It staggered back on it's wheel slightly but the securitron soon regained strength and open fired at the Courier, spraying bullets across the room to decorate the walls with holes. The Courier grunted and dove back into safety with his arms covering his head as debris fell all around him. The shooting stopped, letting the Courier do some return fire as the securitron needed to reload his built-in weapons.

Nomad's fingers clicked away at the keyboard and he was sweating profusely, too damn nervous to concentrate clearly. He was cringing everytime he heard or felt a bullet whiz by him through the air and he tried to focus on hacking the terminal with having to break away from it. There were too many possibilities and the codes were long. Nomad needed a miracle, a sign.

One securitron was down and more were on the way as the Courier reloaded his Plasma Defender, cursing when he fumbled the energy cell with shaky hands. The pack clicked into place and he sighed a breath of relief, back planted firmly to the mostly destroyed pillar. It was their only cover and soon it'd be gone entirely. Nomad needed time they couldn't afford.

"How's it coming along, Nomad?" The Courier panted out nervously, irritation heavy in his voice.

"I'm getting there!" Nomad argued back with a snap.

The next securitron made it's way into the room and when the Courier jumped out from behind his enclosure it pelted the room with bullets. He didn't raise his gun in time which in turn got him shot in the arm. The Courier shrieked out a pained scream and the force of the bullet caused his back step to falter, making him fall backwards onto the ground.

He clutched helplessly at his fresh bullet wound, moaning in agony at the searing pain shooting up and down his arm. The Courier was hyperventilating because he was too worked up, panicking with dread as the securitron inched closer to him with intent to kill. His eyes went wide with fear as he stared up the mini-gun barrels and all he could see for a split second was the red of the securitron's screen.

Paralyzed with terror, the Courier's heart stopped as he began to accept that he was about to die point blank like he should have all along. He closed his eyes tightly. The Courier couldn't bare to watch himself die this time around and curled up in a ball, trying to be invincible in this pose. But it was pointless.

The barrels of the mini-guns started up but before any rounds could be dispensed upon the helpless Courier's body, Nomad had lunged forward with his fist. Nomad's Paladin Toaster connected with the securitron's screen, sparking with electricity as it made the robot burst from the inside out. Fragments of broken glass was showered on the man on the ground and his eyes snapped open to see what happened.

Nomad stood protectively in front of him with his fist up as if waiting to see if the securitron would try attacking again, but it didn't. The others were still scanning the area for them but thankfully they had enough time. Nomad extended a hand to the Courier to help him to his feet, winking with a subtly smile. There was no time to see if the Courier's arm was alright...

So Nomad returned to the terminal hastily typing away, analyzing each keystroke and code to find the right one. He clicked faster, knowing the password was right in front of his eyes but still not seeing it. Then something beeped and when the rest of the securitrons rolled into the room their screens were no longer red and they weren't hostile anymore. The word that saved their lives was "Revolution". The irony...

All the securitrons were back online and functioning properly, giving the Courier and Nomad a chance to catch their breaths. The Courier noticed an elevator he had no idea was there and looked to Nomad curiously. They both approached and climbed in, taking all the way down to the lower depths of the Lucky 38.

"Well, the bullet only grazed your bicep. I'm no doctor, but I think you'll be alright, kiddo," Nomad smiled happily as he inspected the wound on the Courier's left arm.

The Courier didn't speak for a moment, just stared off into space as his arm was wrapped up securely in a bandage. He was sitting cross legged on his bed in the presidential suite, relishing the soft cushion of the mattress like he's never felt anything like it before. The Courier just wanted to lay down and sleep until this damn war was over. Too many people were dying just because mankind was greedy and sick and twisted.

"I can't believe it," the Courier spoke softly, addressing Nomad but not looking at him directly. "I can't believe this is actually happening. I'm beginning to question if I did the right thing or not. Do you ever feel that way? Like you have no control over what happens and you just have to let fate take the wheel?"

"Everyday," Nomad whispered, dropping his hands from the Courier's arm to place them in his lap. "Every goddamn day."

The Courier looked Nomad in the eyes and tried to feel everything the ghoul was feeling, trying to feel that regret, loneliness, and anger. Wishing he could take all their negative emotions and dump them into a big bile of radiation, never to be heard from again. But he knew he couldn't. Not now, not ever.

"There's something you need to know, kiddo. But before I tell you, you must understand that I had my reasons for keeping it to myself," Nomad said cryptically as he inched closer to the Courier.

"I'll understand," assured the Courier, giving Nomad a smile before he closed the space between so that their knees were touching ever so slightly. They were so close to eachother. "I promise."

Nomad had no choice but to take the Courier's word which was no big deal, but even the most understanding and faithful could turn their back on you in the blink of an eye. It was a risk and a gamble but this was Vegas, a risky bet had to happen some time, right? So why not now?

"I lied about my life," Nomad gushed. "I wasn't born in a place called Megaton and I didn't work at Craterside Supply with my father either." The Courier only stared, not judging in the slightest so Nomad took that as a sign to continue. "And I didn't become a ghoul from an atomic bomb either."

The Courier was speechless and perhaps a little hurt, but if Nomad was coming clean that's all that mattered to him. At least he wouldn't be keeping secrets anymore. The Courier thought it was very admirable of him to tell the truth and the fact that Nomad chose now to do so was kind of perfect.

"Tell me. Tell me your real story," the Courier said, leaning closer with a glint of rapture making his eyes twinkle with wonder.

"I was born in Vault 101. My mother, Katherine, died while giving birth to me and I was left to grow up with just my father, James," Nomad recited as if it were yesterday and the Courier just sat there captivated by the story already. "I got my first Pipboy when I was ten and on my birthday my father taught me to shoot radroaches in the basement."

The Courier giggled and smiled, seeming to forget the pain in his arm for just a few minutes so he could enjoy the story of someone else's life. He liked hearing true stories because he had none of his own to ponder. It gave him things to imagine while he dreamt, wondering what his life could've been like before his head injury.

"But when I got older my father became more distant and the reality of my world started to crumble until finally shattering when my dad escaped from the vault." And there was a slight twinge of anger and sadness in Nomad's voice now. "My father left me all alone in a vault with no knowledge of where he was going or why. But I couldn't accept that."

"So you left?" The Courier asked as if he had no clue.

"Yeah. With no knowledge of the outside world," Nomad chuckled shortly. "I remember leaving the vault and seeing nothing but light. Sunlight. I never saw the actual sun before. And I remember feeling scared for the first time in my life. Scared about the world... My father."

The Courier could see tears welling up in Nomad's foggy green eyes and he suddenly knew why he had lied, because the truth hurt too much and uncertainty was it's estranged cousin. He could relate with that fear and hurt because the Courier had been there, was still there, regardless of his revenge.

"Long story short, my father had been out of Vault 101 before and he was involved with a water purification project. But the wrong people found out about it and wanted to use it to their advantage."

"What did they want to do?" The Courier asked worriedly, gnawing at his bottom lip.

"President John Henry Eden and Colonel Augustus Autumn wanted to infect the water supply to kill off all the mutants, sparing the regular human's life. But they didn't feel the need to spare my father's," Nomad smirked bitterly, rueful of the memory itself.

"But they didn't win, did they?" The Courier beamed like a little kid at storytime, pushing for a hopeful ending.

"No," Nomad grinned warmly. "Because the Brotherhood of Steel had something the Enclave didn't..." And here Nomad paused for dramatic effect. "Liberty Prime. A robot as tall as the sky and he took down every last one of them."

"Then what happened?"

Nomad paused for a long time, trying to conjure up the right words but failing. He finally decided on this:

"I made my father proud," Nomad whispered, a single tear spilling out the corner of one of his foggy green eyes. "I did what he didn't have the chance to do."

"You saved the world," the Courier murmured, holding Nomad in a tight embrace now, almost crying himself. "You're a hero."

"It was only the Capital Wasteland," Nomad brushed off shyly, not wanting too much credit.

The Courier smiled into the juncture where Nomad's shoulder met his neck and shook his head fondly. There seemed to be a huge weight taken off Nomad's chest and it showed in the way he clung to the Courier's body. There was one thing that went unexplained though...

"How did you become a ghoul?" The Courier asked lightly, hoping to not offend the wanderer.

"The chamber I had to be in to purify the water was irradiated. Anyone who went in there would've died. It was a suicide mission."

"But you survived," the Courier commented with a gleeful expression. "You refused to die."

"Just like you," Nomad finished, because he knew it was what the Courier was going to say and it made him hold on tighter.

"Given the circumstances and all the shit that happened today... I think we deserve a little R and R," grinned the Courier as he pulled back from Nomad.

"What'd you have in mind?" Nomad asked amused.

"Well, we're all alone," the Courier stated.

"True."

"I distinctly remembering you promising to make me scream," the Courier husked lowly, licking his lips predatorily.

"I did, didn't I?"

"Mmm-hmm," the Courier nodded, biting his lip with a smirk.

They both sat there and when the reflection of themselves were caught in their locked eyes, they bent forward and kissed eachother openly and freely without any worry or discrimination. Nomad pushed the Courier into the bed and climbed on top of him, not once breaking the kiss. The Courier moaned and everything about him opened up willingly.

Clothes were ripped away from bodies, with the exception of the Courier's shirt, and they were tossed carelessly away to be forgotten on the ground until they were through with eachother. Their naked bodies were pressed together and writhing as smooth skin battled it out with rough skin. And neither man was insecure or judging of the other. They were both equal.

Despite what most people would find revolting, the Courier had found Nomad to be beautiful in every sense of the word. Both on the inside and outside. The Courier could get past the fact that Nomad was a ghoul and that he looked like a corpse because that's not what was important to him.

He marveled at Nomad's naked form, exploring as much as his body as he could before Nomad got self conscience and retreated away. Nomad's body was so different and bizarre that it had begun grown on the Courier, making him actually prefer a ghoul over a regular human any day. It excited the Courier beyond belief.

And when Nomad had entered his body and caressed his pale skin, he lost it. Thrashing against the mattress and screaming out obscenities as Nomad thrusted in and out of him fast and hard at a relentless pace. The Courier had kept his eyes open the whole time, not wanting to miss any emotion that crossed Nomad's face.

The Courier had gripped his hands all over Nomad's body to anchor himself to reality as he came hard against their joined bodies. Nomad was hitting the Courier's prostate on every in thrust and even when the Courier had went sensitive, he continued to moan and scream all for the benefit of Nomad until the ghoul came inside him with a shout.

It was the Courier's first time, as far as he knew, and it had been with a ghoul, it was also the first time the Courier ever felt really loved by another being. He didn't know if he could say the same for Nomad, but it was clear that they had something worth salvaging and neither of them should pass up the opportunity to make it something more. They knew they were perfect for eachother.

But it would have to wait, because the Courier was already fast asleep.


	8. No Gods, No Masters

It was exactly a week later from when they had split up and it couldn't have been better timing for them. The Courier and Nomad were the first ones to show up near the Hoover Dam and they were certain that the other two hadn't gotten lost because they were standing next to an unmissable boulder near the main road. Arcade and Boone were just running a little behind is all.

The Courier had been counting down the days since he left for New Vegas to overthrow Mr. House and even though he had found solace in Nomad's warm embrace, he was still nervous. He could die today. Nomad could die, and Arcade, and Boone could too. Everyone's fate was linked by a single thread and he was scared. The Courier could already hear the gunfire and battle cries of men killing men.

The war had started without him.

Where the hell were Arcade and Boone with reinforcements? The Courier was getting antsy now because if they didn't act quick, the war would leave them behind without any say in the matter. That was something the Courier couldn't let happen. Nomad could see the naive redhead over thinking every little detail and he wished he didn't have to worry.

Nomad knew that look better than he knew himself. He had been in a war before and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't ready for another. It had become somewhat of a problem for the ghoul. Nomad secretly craved this battle for quite some time. It wasn't about the killing or carnage, it was about the outcome. The effect it would have on the world. For the greater good.

He hadn't been in the Mojave for long but even a raider junky could see that the Mojave needed to break free from the oppression of tyranny. Nomad longed for freedom and he knew that with the right leadership, New Vegas could be a better place to live. He had faith in the Courier to do what was right, to lead them into battle to fight for everyone and not just one person.

But in the middle of both the Courier's and Nomad's thinking, a thundering sound could be heard down the road behind them. A grin crept across the Courier's face when he saw a familiar looking beret bobbing up and down from behind a rock and it grew even more when a lab coat sporting doctor came into view. The Courier was just glad to see that they were okay and in one piece.

But when he saw no one else, the Courier had to admit that his heart dropped just a little bit. They were all alone. Just the four of them. But for some reason Arcade and Boone didn't look discouraged in the least, in fact they looked as happy as ever. Did the Courier miss the punchline for an unspoken joke or something?

Arcade and Boone walked up to them with raised chins and confident shoulders, smiling like it was the only thing they knew how to do. Nomad came up beside the Courier so that they could all be in the loop of the situation, because there was a lot that was going unsaid when it should be out in the open.

"I guess we're doing this alone then," the Courier said forlornly, trying not to let the disappointment in his voice surface too much. "You guys don't have to help if you don't want to. I don't expect you to risk your lives."

"What are you talking about?" Arcade chuckled slightly. He was a little surprised by the Courier's sudden change in demeanor. Just last week the Courier was trying to convince him that they had to do this. "Why would you think we'd back away now?"

"Because of our numbers. Because we're not enough," the Courier sighed, feeling defeated as he slumped his shoulders.

"We may not be enough," Boone stated.

"But our friends say otherwise," Arcade finished with a cheeky grin.

And, as if they had been prompted to come out at those words, a bunch of men and a few women came out from behind a rock to march up to everyone else. The Courier felt like crying tears of joy at the sight before him, because he had previously thought they had failed in recruiting soldiers.

The men and women among them had varied in race, size, and creed, soldiers with different upbringings and combat training. They all wore their tribe's armor with pride and despite them all being entirely different, they had all banded together for this one final fight for freedom in the Mojave Wasteland. All were equal.

Nomad's face lit up when he saw two old faces he thought he'd never see again. He ran up to his friends Charon and Fawkes and gave them both a great big hug, making elated noises as they hugged back. The Courier smiled to himself and even he had to admit that he enjoyed seeing them as well. He hoped he wouldn't have to patch them up again like when they all first met.

"What?" Arcade asked as he took in the Courier's surprised expression, walking up to his friend with a smug grin. "You didn't actually think I'd come to a gun fight with just knives, did you? You really shouldn't underestimate my power."

"I'll remember that in the future," the Courier chuckled looking over all the people who had showed up to fight the good fight. "Where did they all come from?" He asked, not meeting Boone's or Arcade's eyes.

"We found the Great Khans in Red Rock Canyon but the Brotherhood of Steel were a bit more difficult to find," Boone answered with his usual stern gaze. "But it was worth the trouble. Their firepower is exactly what we need to knock the Legion for a loop."

"I was also able to reach an old faction of mine that had been great fighter pilots back in the day," Arcade threw in quickly after Boone was done talking. "They always said they wanted to go out fighting."

"Not to mention your friends over there," Boone commented, hooking a thumb at Charon and Fawkes. "We got lucky with that one."

All of the soldiers were standing around and silently chatting amongst themselves until it was time for action. Their tiny army couldn't have impressed the Courier more. They were working with two polar opposites: the brutal tribal warriors and the skilled energy weapon toting marksmen. The past working with the future.

"Why are they just standing around?" asked the Courier curiously.

"They're waiting for your command... General," Arcade grinned with a wink, walking around the Courier to stand behind him. He braced his hands on the Courier's shoulders and squeezed them affectionately. "They'll only follow you."

"I can't command an army," the Courier said flustered, laughing nervously.

"Just give them a push and they'll do the rest," Arcade murmured as he gave the Courier a little nudge.

Arcade walked back over to Boone with a big smile on his face, seeming to enjoy the Courier's most defining moment. The Courier didn't want the responsibility of directing soldiers to their inevitable death but he knew that even if he was a real general, that a lot of people would die regardless of the success of the plan.

Nomad stepped away from his friends, patting them on the shoulders warmly and making his way back over to the Courier. Charon and Fawkes gave eachother a look of knowing, chuckling to themselves at the obvious attraction between the Courier and Nomad. Nomad stood beside his companion to give him a reassuring smile.

"We'll gladly follow you into battle," Nomad said lowly, not breaking eye contact for a second. "We'll die fighting."

"I don't plan on dying today," the Courier beamed hopefully.

"Nobody does," Nomad whispered.

There was no way of knowing who would make it and who wouldn't and Nomad didn't make it out to seem like a Johnny Raincloud, but it was the truth. The Courier understood where he was coming from and stepped forward to face the mini army with confidence. He was a naive and scared little kid but today he was a fearless soldier ready to lead his army into victory.

"Everybody listen up!" Boone boomed out to get everyone's undivided attention. "The Courier is about to speak."

Everyone fell silent and looked straight to the quiet redhead. Boone nodded at the Courier as if giving him the go ahead to instruct them on their strategy. They all stared at the Courier. A kid. One kid telling them what to do when he had no knowledge of warfare or any experience whatsoever. Either they trusted completely strangers or they were desperate.

"I'm not here to give a big speech or raise your spirits. I'm just a kid, like most of you here before me now," the Courier spoke loudly so everyone in the back could hear as well. "The war has started without us and when we go in there we'll be right in the middle of it all and there's not much of a strategy to change that."

"So what are we going to do?" A Great Khan called out from the left side of the group.

"We're splitting up into groups of four, so I want the Great Khans and the Brotherhood to mix and match soldiers," the Courier ordered and everyone began to shuffle. Soon there were four groups that consisted of Great Khans and Brotherhood Paladins.

"Now, each group will have a leader with a specific position to hold. Arcade," the Courier said, clasping a hand on the man's shoulder to show them who he was, "will be leading the first group. The one on the right. Group one will hold the first half of the Dam and Boone's group will hold the second half. The third group will hold the Fort with Charon as it's leader and the fourth and final group will be lead by Fawkes who'll be near the Legate's Camp."

"Where will you be, smoothskin?" Charon asked quizzically.

"Me and Nomad will be inside the Legate's Camp," replied the Courier, earning him double takes and shocked faces. Even Nomad was shocked.

"What? All by yourselves?" Boone asked with a scoff, saying what Arcade didn't have the chance to. "You'll be outnumbered."

Nomad grabbed the Courier by the arm to turn him around so they could have some privacy from all the gawking eyes.

"Are you crazy?" Nomad questioned with all seriousness. "That's suicide!"

"No it's not," the Courier informed with a high and mighty grin that went from ear to ear.

"What aren't you telling me?" Nomad asked, smirking slightly and wondering what the Courier was up to. He obviously had planned something before hand, Nomad just didn't know what exactly.

"Caesar is dying," the Courier whispered secretly.

"That helps our situation how?" Nomad queried, eyebrow muscles quirked up.

The Courier sighed, "Think about it. If Caesar's plan was to take the Hoover Dam straight up what would the second in command do?" The Courier asked rhetorically, seeing if it was computing for Nomad yet. "He'd have the same plan, assuming that he's as far gone as Caesar was."

"I don't get it, so what's the difference?" Nomad asked, wracking his brain to see what the Courier was seeing.

"Caesar was a cunning man and even better at war strategies. In his plan he'd send out the first wave of legionaries and if that failed he'd send out another wave and then another. He'd bide his time to see how it'd play out."

"Playing it safe," Nomad offered inquisitively.

"Playing it smart," corrected the Courier. "But assuming his second in command, Lanius has taken control of the Legion, he'll make a fatal mistake."

"He'll send them all at once," Nomad finished, earning him a nod of appraisal. "New leader, new rules."

"Exactly," the Courier said, poking a finger at Nomad with a triumphant smirk. "He's getting cocky so his focus will be entirely on the Hoover Dam."

"But why the Legate's Camp? Why do we need to go there?" Nomad inquired.

"Because that's where Lanius will be. He won't fight with his fellow soldiers, he'll hide to ensure he becomes the new Caesar. We need to make sure that doesn't happen."

The conversation was over so the Courier turned back around to the four groups to continue his commands.

"If anyone is having second thoughts, I suggest you leave now because the Legion will have no mercy over you," announced the Courier loudly, but no one left. They were all going together to fight for an independent New Vegas. "Right. Let's move out!"

They all marched out down the road to the Hoover Dam, heads held high and proud and hearts racing with the adrenaline of one final battle against oppression. Each leader led their own groups, weapons of every caliber at the ready to slay anyone who got in the way.

Every man and woman were equal as they approached the battle field formerly known as the Hoover Dam. And when they reached the main office building and barricades, they all froze to stare in awe of the sight before them. All were speechless and all were scared, but they couldn't be more willing to fight for the Mojave in that moment.

NCR troops and legionaries fought viciously back and forth like rabid animals, yelling with an untamable amount of fury. Blood curdling screams of soldiers falling victim to the kiss of death filled the air which reeked of gun powder and dead bodies. So many people fighting for dominance over the future of New Vegas, dying pride in their hearts.

"Everyone knows their group and position. Try not to shoot any NCR Troops," the Courier announced over the gunfire. "I salute you all and for those of you who don't make it... I salute you twice." His eyes scanned the crowd of the old and young, men and women, all equally scared. All brave. "Let's kill some Legion scum!"

Everyone boomed out with boisterous and primal calls, raising their weapons above their heads in momentum for their time to storm the Dam. All groups fled out as followed: Fawkes' because they had farther to go, then Charon's, and Boone's too, but before Arcade and his group could charge the young doctor ran up to Nomad for a final word.

"You take care of him alright? Don't let anybody hurt him. Protect him at all costs," Arcade pleaded to the ghoul, in case he didn't make it out alive.

"I promise," Nomad whispered.

Arcade nodded once and blinked back the tears welling up inside him. He turned away from Nomad and screamed until his throat was raw, leading his team into the battlefield to hold the bridge's entrance. Nomad watched him run into the middle of a brawl, pulling out his gun and firing on the enemy.

All the opposing forces attacked eachother. The Legion, NCR, Great Khans, Brotherhood of Steel, and also the Remnants of the Enclave flying around to pepper the Dam walls with high caliber ammunition. The sky was lit up with the orange glow of gunfire and the ground was painted with the blood of warriors. The world was in perfect chaos.

The Courier warred and raged against the Legion in all it's numbers, sidestepping to avoid the various bodies of fallen comrades so he could make that body count grow. Nomad was right beside him punching with his Paladin Toaster, fighting in a similar tradition as the Legion, but it didn't stop him from pulling out his Combat Shotgun once in awhile.

They fought their way through a barrage of legionnaires, fighting to reach the gate that separated the Hoover Dam and the Fort. Boone and most of his group had reached their position near the gate, killing any legionaries they crossed their line of sight. Boone saw them struggle and the sharpshooter started picking off legionnaires left and right. Mostly head shots to give them a quick death.

The Courier and Nomad soon reached the group and Fawkes' and Charon's team followed soon after. When they passed through the big gate they all split up to take their different routes.

"Try not to die!" Boone called out after the Courier as the gate closed behind them.

The Courier smirked to himself. Nomad and the Courier took off fast towards the Legate's Camp, trying to avoid enemies at all costs. They had no problem in sneaking by though because some of the NCR Troops had taken the Fort. But the Courier needed to make it to Lanius before they could. Everything had to go according to plan. Everything had to be done at the right time.

Both Nomad and the Courier made it to the second gate and they passed beyond it's threshold, hearts pounding and blood pumping through their veins. They stepped inside looking around at their surroundings. It was quiet but Nomad could hear the voices carry and echo off the rock walls. He could hear what the Courier could not. The Courier stepped forward cautiously, letting Nomad go out in front of him with his gun drawn.

They scanned the area for hostiles, trying to be quiet but failing when Nomad had accidentally knocked something over. The legionnaires heard this and swarmed like ants on food almost immediately. But it didn't matter because the Courier had been right. The Legate's Camp was poorly guarded with only a few soldiers to hold it for their own. They were all dead in minutes.

But that was the easy part.

As soon as the Courier and Nomad rounded the corner of a tent, they were taken by surprise by a man viciously swinging a machete at their heads. The Machete swung between the two men, separating them and for a fleeting moment Nomad panicked. The Courier was lying in the dirt with a cloud of dust floating in the air, around him, masking him from the man standing above him.

The man was tall, taller than most men and he wore a distinct helmet that made him look more important an high above in ranks. It was Legate Lanius and he picked up his machete again, raising it over his head as if he were getting ready to swing but he didn't. He completely disregarded Nomad and focused on the Courier.

"Well, well," Lanius said slowly, looking down at the Courier smugly. "I must say you've far exceeded my expectations, Number Six. But unfortunately your journey ends here. In the name of Caesar."

The Courier felt déjà vu as he stared up at his maker and prepared for death once again. If he could see Lanius' face the Courier would bet he was smirking. Lanius gripped his machete and swung it heavily at the ground, missing the Courier just by mere inches when he rolled out of the way. The machete stuck in the ground and the Courier was given a split second to react.

He got up off the ground and staggered back from the crazed war-hardened general, drawing his Plasma Defender at the giant man before him. Lanius unstuck his machete from the ground, regaining the upper hand to swung at the Courier wildly. The Courier sidestepped awkwardly causing him to stumble and drop his gun on the ground.

The Courier was unarmed and soon Lanius was ready to swing again at him, but luckily Nomad jumped in and let his Paladin Toaster connect with the Legate's helmet. It was knocked off his head with a shock of electricity, flying through the air to tumble to the ground. The Courier looked into the man's eyes as everything slowed down around him. They locked gazes for a split second and then it was over.

Legate Lanius' head was gone.

Nomad had pulled out his shotgun and spent one shell to the back of the man's head when he wasn't looking. Blood had splattered all over the ground in front of the Courier and the body of the once great Legate Lanius fell to the ground with a thud. The Courier stared idly at Lanius' corpse, shell shocked.

Nomad extended a hand towards the Courier and helped him to his shaking feet. The Courier stared at Nomad with big grey eyes that wanted to water but blinked instead, casting them away before they could spill over the brim of his eyelids. Nomad hugged the Courier to his body and held onto him tightly and securely, protecting him.

The ghoul whispered encouraging and sweet words into the redhead's ear, comforting the kid with all he had. He kissed him on the side of the head and pulled away, gripping the back of the Courier's head to look him in the eyes. It was okay now. They were okay. Alive and in one piece.

But there moment of peace was short lived when the gate to the Legate's Camp was blown up, letting NCR Troops file in one by one. A man in a green uniform walked up the middle of the soldiers and approached the Courier with intent and determination in his eyes. It was General Lee Oliver. The Courier had heard stories about him.

"Caesar on the cross," he started with a slight chuckle in his voice. "it's been a long time since I've seen the kind of work you laid down here today. Damn long time. And the screams of those Legion bastards as they kicked dirt running..." General Oliver paused, "Like music to my ears. Fucking beautiful."

The Courier smirked.

"Think that's great?" The Courier asked with cockiness in his tone. "You won't believe what happens next."

And, as if it were pre-planned, a whole army of upgraded MK II securitrons rolled in behind the NCR Troops to cage them between themselves and the Courier. General Lee Oliver went visibly pale and fussed with his tie as if he were on edge from their presence. The General laughed weakly at the sight and tried to re-establish his control over the situation.

"And... Uh... Well now," General Oliver stammered nervously. "These boys with you? Hello there, smiley," he said in regards to Yes Man.

General Lee Oliver knew he was outnumbered and out done in every way, but that didn't stop him from attempting to end it all. He stepped forward and went from the pistol hidden in his coat but as soon as the MK II securitrons saw the movement, they drew there built in mini guns and trained their sights on said General.

"Uh... I say, can you ask them to put their weapons down? Was just reaching in my coat to give you a cigar," the General tried to play off smoothly, and failing.

The Courier wasn't buying it because, despite looking like a kid, he wasn't born yesterday and he wasn't stupid. He knew all about men like Lee Oliver. He wasn't fooling anyone. The Courier smirked at him again.

"The Dam is won for New Vegas. For the people. You and the Legion have both lost this day," the Courier informed with a stiff upper lip. "I suggest you leave before my 'boys' open fire on your men," warned the Courier.

General Oliver scoffed as if he were hurt.

"I would sooner spit on the grave of my dead mother than let some Courier-walk-the-wasteland-fuck talk to me like that!" General Oliver boomed furiously, veins popping out on his forehead. "Who the hell do you think you are? You fuck with the Bear and-"

"How about I ask these robots to fuck you and your entire battalion with a rocket barrage instead?" quipped the Courier with a sudden defiant and no-bullshit tone. "The Republic has out stayed it's welcome. This land belongs to New Vegas now."

"Look kid, I know you're riding high right now but let me tell you something... You ain't pissing on me, you're pissing on the bear."

"Retreat, or we will wipe the NCR off of the Dam,"the Courier warned once more.

"You want me to make tracks out of town with my tail between my legs?" General Oliver asked with a scoff.

"Either leave on your feet, or wrapped in your flag,"said the Courier, completely and absolutely dead serious. He wouldn't bluff, especially in the face of the NCR.

"Do you know what you're doing?" General Oliver asked flabbergasted, still skeptical that some wasteland rat would dare defy him. "Think you got the guts to carve out a frontier? Build towns, protect the roads, run supplies, train troops?"

"I guarantee you, General, that I have put more thought into the Mojave than you or anyone else in the NCR."

"Hell," the General swore under his breath, slowly backing down from his rank. "I can't believe we got suckered in by some road jockey. I know what those robots can do on a bad day and I'm not eager to toss lives at them just to make a point." The General sounded truly defeated, and he was. "But if you're taking this place, you better hope you can hold it."

And with that the General called off his troops and they retreated into the cliffs from once they came, disappearing into the dust that began to slowly dissipate. The Courier held his head up high triumphantly and looked out onto the army of securitrons with Nomad beside him, admiring his dedication and silver tongue skills.

Yes Man wheeled up to the Courier with that same plastered on smile that made him look friendly even when he sounded like a smart ass that couldn't give two shits about human affairs. Nomad was surprised to say the least, he didn't know where those robots had come from and more importantly, he didn't know who the hell the main robot was. How many secrets had the Courier kept from him?

"You did a super job wrapping things up! And I'm not just saying that because I have to!" Yes Man congratulated cheerily.

"Well, it certainly means a lot coming from you, Yes Man," grinned the Courier, brushing off the obvious sarcasm. The sarcasm made him love Yes Man even more.

"I didn't want to make a big deal until after we won, but, well..." Yes Man trailed off hesitantly. "I found some code snippets in one of Mr. House's databanks that will let me reprogram my personality matrix. So that's what I'm going to be doing and it's going to take awhile. So it'll be like I'm off-line. But don't worry, everything will be okay. So I... I guess I'll see you around."

"It's been real, Yes Man," the Courier smiled happily at the computer screen. "I'll be missing you while you're gone."

"We've accomplished a lot together! It was fun! Take care!"

Yes Man rolled away and the Courier was left with Nomad, the Fort, and the Dam, when all he wanted to do was go back home and sleep forever.

"You had that planned all along didn't you? The robots in the bunker, Yes Man... You knew exactly what you were setting out to do long before I even joined up with you," Nomad rattled off when they finally had some alone time. "And you pretended to be scared and naive."

It was a few days after the battle of the Hoover Dam and the couple were in the presidential suite of the Lucky 38, laying down in bed together. They were both bare with the exception of their underwear and the Courier clung to Nomad's splotchy chest, running his hands over the odd texture of skin.

Arcade and Boone were probably at the Gomorrah celebrating and Charon and Fawkes were probably at the Thorn. All was right in the world and the Courier and Nomad had their own little patch of heaven to share until all of their friends came back from a night of drinking and gambling. The Courier was happy for the first time in a long time. He was content with his imperfect world.

"I was scared, and I was naive. I just knew what I was going to do," the Courier murmured against Nomad's chest.

"How did you know Caesar was dying?"

"I'm a doctor. It's all I know now. It's all I am," replied the Courier, accepting his life for what it was finally.

"I have something for you," Nomad rumbled lowly, looking down at the Courier with foggy eyes. The Courier sat up with curiosity glinting in his eyes. "I wanted to wait until we got home. I hope you won't be mad."

"What is it?" The Courier asked, biting his lip in anticipation, practically jumping up and down with excitement.

Nomad reached over the side of the bed, rummaging through a side pack of his to retrieve his gift to the Courier. He sat up straight and presented the Courier with a yellow folder that seemed to contain a packet of papers. Nomad extended it to the Courier with a huge smile on his face and the Courier took it, looking quizzically at the ghoul. Wondering what could be within those pages.

"What's this?" asked the Courier, holding up the folder.

"Everything you need to know about yourself," was all Nomad said.

The Courier stared at Nomad for a long moment to see if the ghoul was playing a trick on him but he could tell Nomad was dead serious about the folder. He couldn't believe it and a part of him didn't want to. If Nomad wasn't yanking his chain then that made him even more scared to take a peek a into the folder.

"How did you-"

"I had Yes Man research and print it up before he went off-line. It's not as thorough as actually living it first hand would be, but it's something," Nomad murmured ardently. "I haven't looked at it yet. I wanted you to be the first to see it."

"Is my birthday in here?" inquired the Courier, almost on the verge of tears.

"Yes."

"And my parents?"

"Yes."

"My name?" The Courier whispered, tears rolling down the side of his pale face.

Nomad smiled heartily and nodded.

The Courier looked down at the folder in his hands and opened it as the tears fell, dripping onto it's pages to warp them only slightly. He took a deep breath and opened up his eyes to scan the page before him. The Courier's heart slowed down when his grey eyes came to rest on big bold letters. Nothing moved, nothing stopped. Everything just... was.

And for the first time since he could remember, the Courier knew his name.


End file.
